


The Lovegood Cafe and Arabica

by TwistedHallows



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bakery and Coffee Shop, Bisexual Harry Potter, Bottom Draco Malfoy, Developing Relationship, Gay Draco Malfoy, Good Draco Malfoy, Luna Lovegood & Draco Malfoy Friendship, M/M, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Slow Burn, Social Anxiety, Soft Draco Malfoy, Switch Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:54:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25838389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistedHallows/pseuds/TwistedHallows
Summary: Draco works at Luna’s cafe and coffee shop. The war is a distant memory, and he’s good at his job. He hasn’t seen Potter in about 6 years - but that’s all about to change.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 51
Kudos: 238





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hi all! Thank you for popping by to read the first fic I'm posting. This is a soft and relatively fluffy (though not innocent) story I'm writing to intersperse with the more heavy themes from some of my other fics. I don't have a set schedule for posting up parts or chapters, but I will do my best to get something up as often as possible
> 
> The usual things apply - All rights belong to J.K.Rowling. I may have gone to school for English but it has been years since I've attempted to write creatively, but I'm enjoying myself! This will be a slow burn Drarry fic (and I mean slooooooow) so if you want to stick around please do!
> 
> You can follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/twistedhallows) or [Tumblr](https://twistedhallows.tumblr.com)! I'm basically everywhere as TwistedHallows so I'm sure you'll find me :)

“We should open a coffee shop.” Luna’s soft voice drifted across the garden as Draco took another round of blueberry scones out of the oven. “Your way with the french press is divine, and if other people could taste your baked goods...” she hummed in delight as she popped another morsel of the flakey pastry with clotted cream into her mouth. Draco let a slow smile cross his face as he maneuvered the tray of hot, fresh scones onto the cooling rack before brushing his hands off on the tea towel tucked into his waistband. He never imagined that he and Luna would become so close, but here they were at Draco’s gardenside flat, enjoying each other’s company and indulging in the fruits of their labor.

“Oh yeah?” He turned the oven off and gathered the mugs, carrying them out into the garden before sitting next to Luna and pouring them both a healthy measure of the strong coffee he had just brewed before adding their favorite mix-ins - a splash of milk, and a drizzle of homemade caramel sauce for Luna, and two sugars for himself. “Where would we open this coffee shop, Luna? What would we even call it?”

“Lovegood Cafe and Arabica.” He should have known she already had a name in mind. Luna may come off as eccentric, but when she had an idea and voiced it, she almost always had all of the schematics in mind. “We’d open it in Diagon Alley, of course. Just a small shop. We could have a garden out back for the fruit and you could make the jams and jellies and scones and muffins and…” Draco held out his hands to stop her outflux of ideas.

“Sounds like I’ll be doing an awful lot of work!” He tucked a stray bit of hair behind his ear before settling back and taking a sip of his coffee. “When did this idea come to you, anyways?”

“I dreamed of it!” Luna turned and her large, blue-grey eyes stared into his silver ones. “It’s such a good idea, Draco. There’s not a good coffee shop in Diagon Alley, and all you do is stay at home…” she trailed off, looking serene even as Draco’s face hardened and the Malfoy Mask attempted to come to the surface. He felt it and did his best to relax - that wasn’t him anymore. It was 2004, for Merlin’s sake. The war was over, he had made his peace, he even had friends… okay, maybe acquaintances via Luna, but it was still more than he could have ever hoped for six years ago. No one outwardly hated him anymore, and that was as good as he could have wanted it.

“Luna,” he exhaled, breaking their eye contact and staring up at the overcast London sky, “I don’t know if it’s a good idea. I like baking here, at my flat, with you. Who would want to come to a bakery where a Death-- where I worked?” He changed his phrasing, knowing that his Mind Healer would flay him alive if he had continued the sentence the way he originally planned. The war may be over, but he still struggled with his old identity. Though the Dark Mark had faded to a barely-there grey smudge on his arm, he knew what he had done in the past and still felt the need to repent for it. 

Luna didn’t make him feel that way, however. Luna’s friendship had come as a complete surprise. One day, he was window shopping in Hogsmeade, thinking about buying his mother some of the Chocoballs from Honeydukes she liked, and Luna had all but ran headfirst into him, claiming to be “following a Demiguise”. He had caught her arm and helped her regain her balance, and when she saw who he was, she didn’t lurch away in fear or disgust. She simply smiled up at him with her wide, knowing eyes and exclaimed, “Draco! It’s been a while. How are you doing?” Draco had spluttered out some nonsense about being fine and really needing to go, but she had linked her arm with his and proclaimed loudly that she thought his mother would _love_ those Chocoballs he was eyeing, and what was he waiting for? 

After they had parted ways that first time, Luna had given him her Floo address and told him that he was welcome to call at any time. Draco hadn’t been sure of that, but a fortnight later when he had awoken from a nightmare that was worse than the others he’d been having, he threw the Floo Powder into his fire and called out the address she provided. He was whisked away and into an extremely round room, full of all sorts of different plants - and had found Luna curled up on a fluffy couch with her arm around a rather large fern, reading the Quibbler upside down. She seemed unsurprised to see him, and patted the spot next to her that wasn’t taken up by the fern. He had sat next to her and she sat with him, quietly humming, as his heart rate returned to normal and he was able to breathe easier. “I have them too,” she spoke quietly, “the nightmares. I know what it’s like. You don’t have to be alone.”

It became easier after that. She had helped him find a Mind Healer who didn’t bat an eye at his past, and they had fallen into an easy, comfortable friendship. Luna would get him out of his flat more often than not; whether it was to catch Freshwater Plimpies, harvest random fruits and vegetables from these things called “Pick Your Own” farms, or to walk around outside, not saying much, but just enjoying each other’s company. Draco loved his time with Luna. She was like the sister he never had. She never brought up the past, and was always full to the brim with interesting ideas and tidbits of information. 

Luna had been the one to suggest the muggle cooking class, and Draco had agreed to it after laughing at the idea, thinking she was winding him up. She just stood there, looking at him placidly, before his laughter died down and he realized she was serious. “And we’re almost late, we need to go now!” She had tugged him, sputtering, into a side-along apparition that spit them out in the alley behind the college the class was held at. It was here that Draco discovered his love of baking (and Luna’s absolute ineptitude at it), and the rest was history. Luna would bring him different fruit from her garden room, and he would transform them into tarts and scones, muffins and puddings, and even jams and jellies. They did this once a week and indulged together - it was a special time, one where they got to unwind and not worry about anything else that was happening in the world around them. 

The first time Luna brought Ginny to his flat for their Sunday baking day, he thought the floor would open and swallow him whole. He stood in his kitchen, the oven beeping at him incessantly, as he stuttered out a hello, his face red as the strawberry jam he had simmering on the stove. Luna may have forgiven him, but he wasn’t so sure about any of the other witches and wizards he used to know. Ginny had surprised him, though - she gave him a tentative smile and held out her hand to shake, and when he took it, her face showed nothing unpleasant - no repulsion, no disdain, just curiosity and something Draco couldn’t quite put his finger on at the time. She had sat at the kitchen island with Luna, chatting animatedly about her summer training with the Holyhead Harpies, while Draco canned the jam and made more and more scones. The girls tried one from every batch he made, and praised him and his skills at baking. He had felt something that day he hadn’t felt in a long time - pride.

After bringing Ginny over a few times, Luna began to branch off and bring others with her - Neville was the second guest, and he had clapped Draco on the back as though they were old friends and swore up and down that he had never had as good of an American muffin as Draco’s lemon poppy seed. He had left with a basket full of the muffins and a few jars of raspberry jam for his gran, and Draco felt lighter than he had in years. He may not be able to call these people friends, but they definitely weren’t enemies any longer. 

After Neville came Hermione and Ron - they were married, after all - and while it was awkward at first, by the end of the afternoon they were both talking and laughing with Luna and Neville, while Draco baked pastry after pastry for their taste testing pleasure. They had unanimously decided that Draco’s blueberry scones with his homemade clotted cream and strawberry jam was the food of the ancient witches and wizards, and Draco had flushed with satisfaction at the praise. He wasn’t used to it, especially after everything, and he soaked it up like a sunflower soaking up the sun’s rays. It made him feel happy, content; and he looked forward to Sundays even more, to spend time with these people who could potentially become his friends.

He loved listening to their lives: Ginny’s Quidditch training with her team, Neville’s work with the Aurors and as a fill-in Herbology professor at Hogwarts, Ron’s Auror training and Hermione’s slow ascent into Magical Law Enforcement. Every now and then they’d mention someone else he knew from school - Hannah Abbott becoming a healer at St. Mungos, Ernie Macmillan securing a place as the Assistant Director for the Daily Prophet, even Pansy Parkinson’s name came up as they discussed her new line of clothing and fashion. Draco drank these stories in, happy for his old school mates for doing everything that Draco found he couldn’t. 

After the war, because of his status as a known Death Eater, he found it hard to find employment, or anyone who would look at him without scorn. With his father in Azkaban for the unforeseeable future and his mother living in France, as she couldn’t bear to be without Lucius, he was left alone in Wiltshire, at Malfoy Manor, with no one for company. Draco couldn’t stand being alone, and the house elves were little to no comfort. He had enough in his personal Gringotts vault to live comfortably for many years, so he had decided to move to London, closer to Diagon Alley. Sure, he could have stayed at the Manor and been safe from the glaring eyes of the wizarding world, but he found he truly didn’t want to be so ostracized. He’d face those glowers with his head held high; he was a Malfoy, after all. He found his small garden flat down the road from the Leaky Cauldron, and as it was owned by a muggle, he had no issues putting money down and moving in as soon as he could. That was about three months before he met Luna.

With all of their talking about past classmates and their own lives, there was one person who was extremely absent from their musings - the one and only Savior of the wizarding world, Harry Potter. Draco realized relatively early on that no one really spoke of Potter, only in extremely brief spurts and only when talking about the past. He had asked Luna about it once, and she had just shrugged with a sad look in her eye. “Keeps to himself, mostly,” she said, “He was supposed to be an Auror, you know… never showed up on the first day of training.” Questions burned in Draco’s mind at that, but he didn’t want to ask these new people who he still didn’t quite consider his friends. He didn’t want to pry, and he didn’t want to seem overly eager. If he wanted anyone to be his friend, still, after all these years, it was Potter - but he definitely felt that ship had sailed. True, Potter had spoken at his and his parent’s trials, and had saved his mother and himself a hefty Azkaban sentence, but that was really the last time he saw Potter. He was basically a ghost, a memory.

And now, here he was, on a bright Sunday afternoon, with Luna in his garden, eating scones and discussing opening a damn cafe. “Do you even know how to run a cafe, Luna?” He asked carefully, crumbling the last of his scone into the grass for the birds.

“I expect it won’t be difficult. We do have magic, after all!” Luna waved her wand through the air, drawing out a leafy wreath with the text “Lovegood Cafe+Arabica” in the center. “Looks good, doesn’t it?” With that, Draco acquiesced and they put their heads together to change the idea into a reality.


	2. Opening Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the cafe opens, scones are made, and secrets are told.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm happy everyone seems to be enjoying this so far! This chapter didn't turn out how I thought it would at the end, but I guess my subconscious was just telling me to lay out a little more groundwork before anything else. <3

* * *

The cafe opened up exactly a month later, in a lovely open plot at Number 24 Diagon Alley. Luna had picked it out after yet another dream had revealed to her that “Two plus four was six, turned upside down is nine, and the square root of nine is three, and three is a very powerful number, didn’t you know, Draco?” He had gone with it, and she was right - it unquestionably was a beautiful spot for the shop. The English Ivy climbing up the brick was a wonderful addition to the sign Luna had put up, the very same one she created when she and Draco had first talked about it.

They decided to go with a mixture of burgundy and vermilion for the walls, another idea of Luna’s, because she liked the energy that the reds gave off. Draco didn’t mind, though he was a little less enthusiastic about the uniforms they had decided on. He already expressed that he wouldn’t mind whatever colors Luna chose, but when she showed up to his flat with an armful of brilliant purple fabric, exclaiming that purple would be the perfect color for Draco to wear for his apron, he was hesitant until she showed him the sandy-colored shirt that would go underneath it. Finding he liked the combination, he tugged the shirt over his head and tied the apron around his middle, and modeled for a delighted Luna. 

“Oh, and these cups!” She withdrew three different sizes of cups, all the same brilliant turquoise that seemed to be alive with how the light and shadows caught the curves. They were cups, alright - and while Draco wasn’t sure of the color at that moment, once the cafe was put together and everything in its place, he had to admit that it had a certain charm.

Draco was, naturally, in charge of the baking and coffee making. The kitchen was his to do with as he pleased, and he stocked it with the latest and greatest muggle technology. He learned quickly in his baking experiments that magic interfered with the careful chemistry that came with baking, so he made a sign that read, “No wands in the kitchen!” as well as procuring a magical damper from Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes so that as soon as someone breached the doorway, their magical abilities would be somewhat suppressed. While it didn’t completely take away a person’s magical properties, it subdued them enough so that while they were in the kitchen, their magic wouldn’t hinder the process. An Episkey for a cut would work just fine, but anything higher than a year two spell wouldn’t be able to be performed. Draco preferred it that way; he didn’t mind doing things hands on, and with how precise he had to be with ingredients and measurements, he knew it was necessary to lose his magic for a time while he was focusing on other things. 

They decided to have the cafe open six days a week, Monday through Saturday, between the hours of 7am and 2pm. That would give Draco enough time after work to prep the various batters and grind the coffee beans for the next day. Sunday, of course, was their day to spend time at Draco’s flat and think up new combinations and flavors for the scones and muffins. 

Ginny liked to brag that she was the reason the cafe had so much success at opening. She had been bringing leftover muffins and scones to her team practices for so long, the entirety of the Holyhead Harpies - including the reserve players - had shown up on opening day to show their support and get their fill of scones and muffins. Draco was slightly intimidated, but dutifully made coffee after coffee and warmed up all the pastries as they were ordered so that by the time they closed at 2pm on that first day, everything was sold out and the day had passed by in a blur. 

After waving the last of the customers off, Luna locked the door and whirled to face Draco, positivity nearly radiating off of her. “I told you!” She said triumphantly, “I told you this was a good idea!” Draco shook his head and smiled, motioning her towards the kitchen. A knock and a shout at the door made them both turn, and Luna unlocked the door to let their friends in. Ginny had to go to practice, but Neville, Ron, and Hermione had all arrived to assist with the clean-up of their first day.

“Alright?” Ron exclaimed, clapping Draco on the shoulder and waving his wand to enchant the broom to begin sweeping the floors, “How was it today?”

“Madness.” Draco gripped his arms tightly in front of him. “I didn’t expect to sell out of everything, even with the Harpies being here, but there were so many people, it was hard to keep up…”

“But you did,” Hermione spoke quietly, casting a quiet Scourgify on the tables as she danced out of the way of Ron’s broom, “You made it, you fed them all, and you’re still here. How do you feel?”

Draco stopped to consider this. There was the rush of adrenaline, the fear of failing, the constant talking to people… “I’m overwhelmed,” he admitted, letting himself lean back against the counter and rubbing his face. “It was a good day, don’t get me wrong… but I’m wondering if I’ll be able to do this consistently.” 

“You’re not doing it alone!” Neville declared, “You have us, and if it ever gets to a point where you really can’t handle it, then one of us can step in.” He turned to Luna, who was running a finger through the spent coffee grounds in the bin next to the espresso machine. “Were you here all day?”

“Oh yes,” she answered dreamily, “I was making sure things were running smoothly in the back.”

“You were eating scones and talking to the strawberry plants, telling them how tasty they were going to be once they were big enough to make into jam,” Draco corrected, throwing Luna a withering look that went right over her head. Everyone began laughing as Luna danced into the back room. “Wands out of the kitchen!” He said with a roar as he sprinted after her, tugging the wand from her back pocket before depositing it in the receptacle outside the kitchen’s door.

“Sorryyyy~” her voice drifted out, and Draco knew she was going back to finish conversing with the plants they had in the back garden. With a sigh, he placed his own wand next to Luna’s and entered the kitchen. He had quite a bit of prep work to do if today’s opening was any indication. Without the Harpies and their endorsement, he still expected quite a few people to stop by tomorrow; their location was extremely centralized.

Taking a deep breath, Draco settled himself into baking mode as he whirled around the kitchen, grabbing his ingredients and deftly pouring them into his industrial mixer. For the more showy pastries, he would focus on the weighing of the ingredients, but for the basic batter he’d be using as a base for his flavored scones, he knew the ratios by heart. He held back before flipping the switch, going over his mental checklist three more times before nodding and turning the mixer on “low”. It only needed to mix for a bit before separating the batches and adding the mix-ins. Voices drifted into the kitchen from the dining area, and Draco pressed eight minutes into his timer and walked idly to the sink to wash flour off his hands when he heard something that made him pause.

“Harry hasn’t left his flat in weeks.” Hermione’s worried tone was obvious. “I invited him to the opening but he said he was busy.”

“Busy with what?” Ron interrupted, “He doesn’t do anything. After that day we waited for him at the Ministry for Auror training and he never showed, he wasn’t interested in going or doing anything with us.”

“Not for lack of trying, either,” Neville had jumped in, “I’ve asked him to join us at The Leaky Cauldron, or even come up to Hogwarts to watch the kids play Quidditch but it’s always excuse after excuse.” 

Something in Draco’s chest clenched, and he turned on the faucet and slowly ran his hands under the water, still listening carefully to the other’s conversation.

“I think the last time he came to The Burrow was sometime in February,” Ron mused, “He came and ate, and then he and Ginny had yet another row and he left.” The feeling in Draco’s stomach soured further. It was the first of June… Harry hadn’t been to the Weasleys’ house for four months?

“It’s been five years since they broke up though, right?” Murmurs of agreement came from Ron and Hermione, and Neville continued, “I always thought they were the storybook romance,” he chuckled darkly, “Always thought he was so lucky to have her.”

“You’re still nursing that crush aren’t you?” Hermione sounded amused. “Well, Ginny is single so feel free. Harry hasn’t dated anyone since they broke up, and the…. What’s it called, Ron? That brother thing you told me about?”

“Bro code!” Ron sputtered, and Draco scoffed at the muggle term; he had heard it a lot at the college classes. “But she’s still my sister, Hermione…”

“Yes, bro code or whatever.” Hermione continued, seeming to ignore Ron. “The statute of limitations must have passed by now, so have a go. Worst that can happen is that she’ll say no, right?” Draco couldn’t stand eavesdropping any longer. He had his own questions he wanted answers to. Turning off the water, he dried his hands off before exiting the kitchen and addressing his - were they friends? - in the lobby.

“Why haven’t you lot invited Potter to the flat on Sundays?” He began carefully, noticing the flush that crept up all three of their faces. “You don’t seem to have a problem with me, so I don’t expect he would either, after all this time.” The silence in the air was stifling. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea for Draco to confront them like this. He was about to turn away when Luna appeared suddenly, and just like that, the tension was broken. She had that effect on people.

“I’ve invited him loads of times,” Luna stated, “but he doesn’t ever come.” 

Hermione nodded, biting her lip. “He never says no outright,” she said slowly, making eye contact with Ron before sweeping her gaze to Draco, “but there’s always an excuse to not do something.”

“‘I have to clean up Sirius’ bedroom’,” Ron mimicked Harry almost perfectly, “‘No, really Ron, go on without me. If I get done early, I’ll catch up with you all.’ Never does, mind you. We’ve all but given up on inviting him places. He just doesn’t want to go.” 

Draco pondered this. The Chosen One, hiding away in his house, not seeing friends or doing anything… sounded quite a bit like himself before he managed to pull out of the depression the war left him in. There were still days when he struggled with getting out of bed, but his Mind Healer had given him coping mechanisms and exercises that usually worked to get him out of his funks. Having Luna as a friend was a godsend, as was the comfort of the three people standing before him. He exhaled noisily. “Do you at least visit him?” He asked, wincing inwardly at the personal question.

“At least once a week,” Neville responded, gesturing to himself, Ron, and Hermione. “We stop by Friday nights before we go to the Leaky. He’s always invited, but like Ron said, excuses out the arse.”

“I bring him your blueberry scones on Mondays,” interjects Luna, “He thinks they’re delicious. The last time I invited him to your flat, he said he didn’t think he was welcome and then spent the rest of our visit staring into the fire. I’m sure he just saw some fire salamanders and was trying to figure out how to capture them, so I left him to it.” 

A loud beeping caused them all to jump, and Draco swore and rushed back into the kitchen, pressing the flashing timer and flipping the mixer off. “Time for mix-ins!” Luna exclaimed, and the three others filed into the kitchen, first depositing their wands like the sign commanded. 

“This feels so weird,” Ron shuddered as he stepped through the magical damper, “You really work like this?” 

“Of course he does, Ron, remember that time you forgot to put your wand away at his flat and the Soufflé he was making started sparking and ended up as a puddle instead of rising?” Hermione to the rescue, Draco thought, as he lugged the large mixer bowl to the counter and divided the dough into five relatively even blobs on the floured surface. Ron had the decency to look slightly ashamed as he turned to wash his hands with everyone.

“Blueberry, plain, ham and cheese, raisin, pumpkin.” Pointing at the different lumps, he began delegating kitchen duties. “Neville, the blueberries are in the cooler underneath the counter. Hermione, the ham and cheese is already cut up and ready to mix in, next to the blueberries. Ron,” he chucked the raisins at the red head, who caught them easily, “and Luna, you know where the pumpkin and spices are.” He contented himself with kneading the plain dough, knowing he could get it done and cut quickly so that he could finish up the cleaning.

They worked in a comfortable silence, mixing, kneading, and cutting the scones before tossing them on trays to be placed into the blast freezer until the next morning. With the five of them working, even with Luna’s bizarre need to dance as she was sprinkling the cinnamon into the pumpkin scones, they made quick work of the dough and managed to leave the shop only an hour and a half past closing. Locking the door and setting the wards to alert them to any unusual activity, Draco let himself relax. ‘ _It really wasn’t a bad opening day_ ,’ he thought, ‘ _I’m sure tomorrow will be even better_.’ 

Bidding farewell to Hermione, Ron, and Neville, he and Luna apparated back to his flat to discuss the day and to lay out a plan for the next week.

“Opening week is very important, after all,” Luna mused, twirling a strand of hair between her fingers, “and we have a lot of ideas to discuss!” Draco nodded and half-listened while she was happily chattering about different flavors of muffins and possibly expanding into a full breakfast and lunch area. He turned down that idea, stating that it was entirely too early to be expanding anything, but let his mind drift as she was explaining how she could use the coffee grounds as fertilizer for the garden out back. He kept thinking about Potter and how he was holed up in his flat without family, only getting visits a few times a week from the same people. Then again, he didn’t know if Potter had any other friends, and it was entirely possible that he was having people over every day. Doubtful, he thought, from how the others were talking. 

“Don’t think so hard,” Luna’s voice cut through his daydream, “He’ll come around.”

“Who?” Draco startled as she reached out to pat his arm. Luna always seemed to know when he wasn’t all there.

“Harry Potter, of course.” She nibbled at a scone she brought home. “He’s going through something right now, but I’m sure he’ll snap out of it soon enough.” With that, she changed the subject back to the cafe and allowed Draco to sink back into the depths of his mind. 


	3. Birthday Part One

Surprisingly, the rest of the week went by smoothly, and before Draco knew it, it was Saturday, June 5th. His 24th birthday. Luna let it slip during “Mix-In Time” on Thursday that they were all planning a surprise party for him, but she also knew that he disliked surprises. Draco was extremely grateful, as he was still not used to having people - friends, he reminded himself - actually care about his birthday. He originally planned on having a nice night at home, possibly creating a new recipe for Sunday, but he admitted to himself that he was pleased that his friends actually wanted to celebrate with him.

The morning started off normal enough: Draco arrived at the cafe around 5:30am and began the process of getting everything into place. He turned all of the ovens on and waited for them to preheat as he took the previously made scones out of the blast freezer and arranged them on their respective baking sheets. He learned that they baked more evenly when he only had 6 scones to a tray. It may take a little longer, but the reward was definitely worth it. Baking without magic was one of the most rewarding things, Draco had discovered, and he had taken to it like a hippogriff to the air.

Turning his attention to the front of the store, he quickly set the regular and decaffeinated coffee to brew with an absent flick of his wand before returning it to the receptacle and meandering back into the kitchen. He turned on the Sony radio he had found in a muggle shop, listening idly to the radio host talk about sports scores before throwing a song out. He knew most of the songs; they were muggle, but they played so often on this channel, it was easy to discern what he was listening to. 

Humming to himself, he set about organizing the scones on his baking pans and placing them into the oven before retreating back to the dining room. He took down the chairs, wiped down the tables, and set each one with a little vase containing a single sunflower, right in the center - Luna said that the sunflowers brightened the room, and Draco agreed. He also knew he could do this part with magic, but he found he enjoyed the physical labor.

Three rounds of scones and one left to go, he turned up the muggle radio and began to get into the music. It was easy when he was alone to let go; a talent he learned after he disassociated himself from his parents and their pureblood ideologies. “Children were to be seen and not heard.” Well, Draco liked being heard, and he made sure to sing loudly in his own subtle defiance of his upbringing.

“Froooooozen in time without your touch, without your looooove….” Draco sang as he pulled the last trays of scones out of the oven, “Only youuuu are the life among the de-” He started as he saw a blonde head whirl past him, then smiled. It must be 6:33am, since that’s when Luna insisted on arriving every day. “Luna!” He called, “Stock the front cabinets for me?”

“I suppose,” her voice drifted out to him from their back garden, “but you have to wear this!” Something large and round was suddenly flying towards Draco, and, though his seeking skills were rusty, he managed to snatch what ended up being a badge out of the air. He examined it and flushed; it was a rather large button featuring an Antipodean Opaleye, breathing fire that rearranged into the letters spelling out, “It’s my birthday!” every few seconds. 

“You can’t be serious,” he spluttered, turning the button over in his hands, “Not everyone needs to know!”

“Nonsense.” Luna appeared beside him and snatched the button away, swiftly pinning it to the middle of his apron. “There! It’s perfect.” She smiled serenely up at him as she grabbed a basket and began loading the scones into it. “Took me time to decide what kind of dragon to use, you know. But I came up with it…”

“In a dream,” Draco finished dryly, peering down at the ostentatious sign that was now pinned to his chest. The dragon really was pretty; its pearlescent scales glowed and the multifaceted eyes seemed to light up mischievously . He sighed and gathered up another basket of scones to put into the display case. “Thanks, Luna. Truly.” He smiled at her, and she smiled back, her face displaying nothing but adoration for her friend.

“It’s your birthday, Draco!” She said happily, “And after work today, we’re going to have a nice party and drinks and you don’t have to do anything!” With that, she turned and flounced back through the kitchen and to the garden, no doubt to urge the fruits to grow big and strong for some kind of jelly. Shaking his head, Draco turned back to the display case and slid the basket of blueberry scones in. He had some ideas for different flavors he should probably jot down before he forgot…

At 7am on the dot, Luna reappeared to flip the sign from ‘Closed’ to ‘Open’, and Draco’s day really got started. If he thought that the weekdays had been busy, then he was extremely shocked with how many people showed up on a Saturday. He supposed he should have known; most people were at work on the weekdays while they were open, and since this was the first official Saturday, there were a bunch of new faces to cater to. 

Not all of them were nice, but then again, there were some jerks during the week too. Today, he had a lady who nearly threw her coffee in his face when he informed her, regrettably, that he had just sold the last of the pumpkin scones. The other customers more than made up for it, however; each of them wished him happy birthday and a few even chastised him for being at work. Being the only person manning the front line was laborious, but he managed well enough. He knew that, besides Luna, his friends wouldn’t be in today because they were at his flat preparing for the not-so-surprise party. He served with a smile, and was nearly sold out of all the scones by the end of his workday.

“Here’s your London Fog, Ms. Benson!” Draco flashed a bright smile at the elderly witch, handing over the mint green takeaway cup. She had been his first official customer on opening day, and had continued to come every morning that week before work. “Thanks for stopping by the cafe today! I hope your husband is well.” 

“He is, thank you so much for asking.” Ms. Benson took the cup and inhaled the fragrant drink. “Smells heavenly, just like always! Happy birthday, my dear. I’ll see you bright and early on Monday!” She turned to leave, and Draco busied himself with wiping down his counters before grabbing the basket with a lone blueberry scone - the only leftover pastry of the day - and taking it to the back. 

He leaned against the counter and took a deep breath. Almost closing time, and he was so ready to go home and spend time with his friends. It was becoming easier to call them friends in his mind. Grinning to himself, he set about getting the back room in order and ready for Monday, minus the scone batter. He’d come in on Sunday to make it. Maybe he’d even have that new recipe to try on the customers…

The front door chimed and Draco called, “Be with you in a moment!” He glanced at the clock - it was five minutes until close. Not many people would come in this late; everyone knew they usually ran out of their pastries by this time, if not sooner. 

“So, what’s good here?” A strangely familiar voice came from the front of the store, and as Draco rounded the corner of the backroom, he came to a standstill. He took in the baggy muggle jeans paired with a loose hooded pullover, and then his silver eyes found the deep bottle green.

“Potter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so terribly sorry it's been so long without an update! And to end on a 'cliffhanger'... I planned on that, I won't lie, but we will be seeing a lot more of Mr. Potter in the next chapter!
> 
> Also yes, I have Draco singing 'Bring Me To Life' by Evanescence xD


	4. Birthday Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas to those who celebrate, and Happy Holidays to the rest! I know it's been MONTHS since I've updated; life has kicked my butt lately but I am BACK. This entire story has been plotted and I know exactly where it's going, so hopefully I'll be able to get chapters out on a better schedule.
> 
> Thanks for sticking by me, and I really hope you enjoy the rest of (this part of) the Harry / Draco meeting!

* * *

Draco stood, stunned, staring blankly at the elusive and extremely muggle-looking Harry Potter in front of him. He had let his hair grow longer, the curly tendrils brushing against the bottom of his chin, a swoop of fringe covering his scar and a bit of his right eye. He looked… skinny, Draco thought, carefully looking him up and down. The baggy hoodie was subtly falling off of one of his shoulders, and if Draco hadn’t spent most of his school years staring at him, he probably wouldn’t have noticed. Harry took a hand from his front pocket and scrubbed it through the hair at the nape of his neck, a nervous tic he had since his Hogwarts years… not that Draco would admit to knowing that.

  
“Hullo, Malfoy,” he said quietly, causing Draco to lean forward to hear him better, “Luna has been talking up the shop so I figured I’d stop by.” His eyes fell to the button on Draco’s apron and his eyes widened slightly. “And of course, it’s your birthday too…” he trailed off, looking uneasy, but luckily, they were both saved by a squeal.

“Harry! You came!” Luna came hurdling out of the backroom and rushed to give the surprised man a hug. “I really hoped you would!” Harry encircled his arms around his friend, patting her back awkwardly as he tried not to make eye contact with Draco. 

“I did, yeah…” Harry’s eyes roamed the walls and bakery case, a disappointed look crossing his face. “No more scones?”

“Draco saved the last blueberry one for you!” Luna enthusiastically grabbed his hand and pulled him back towards the kitchen. He trailed along behind her, still taking in the cafe. He noticed the sign above the kitchen door before Luna pulled him through, and hurriedly grabbed his wand from his back pocket to place in the receptacle. Draco stared - he usually had to remind his friends to put their wands there, and here was Harry sodding Potter, following rules like he had been to the cafe dozens of times before. 

He shook his head and glanced at the wall clock - 2:03pm. With a sigh, he turned the sign from Open to Closed, and locked the door before following Luna and Harry into the kitchen. Luna was sitting up on the counter, swinging her feet merrily as she chatted at Harry about the garden she was growing in the back. Harry listened intently, breaking apart the blueberry scone into pieces and eating them carefully as he nodded at appropriate points. Draco grabbed a small container of clotted cream and a jar of fresh made strawberry jam and placed them in front of Harry with a knife and a nod before beginning his cleaning ritual. He felt the green eyes following him around the kitchen but paid them no heed - he had to get things cleaned up before going home.

“...and I hope you’ll be coming to Draco’s flat for the party!” Harry choked on his bite of scone as Luna hopped off the counter and looked at him expectantly. 

It took him a moment to clear his throat before he was able to speak. “I didn’t realize I was invited. I know you said Ginny would be there, and I really don’t want to cause any problems on Malfoy’s birthday.” Luna waved off Harry’s intrepidation. 

“Ginny had a last minute practice she had to go to! It’ll just be Neville, Ron, and Hermione. And us, of course.” Luna indicated the three of them in the kitchen before grabbing her bag from the ground. “I really must be going, Draco, I just have to help set up a few more things. Think you can find something to do for the next thirty minutes?” Draco chuckled and threw his cleaning rag at her.

“It’ll take me about thirty to get things in order here, so don’t worry, Luna. I’ll also walk home just to give you a little more time, how’s that sound?” 

“Wonderful. Harry, stay with him, would you please? He really should start heading home in thirty and I don’t trust that he won’t try to stretch out the time he’s here. Ta!” and with that, Luna disappeared through the back and left Harry and Draco alone in the kitchen.

Draco cleared his throat. “She… you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to, Potter,” he sighed, “I’m honestly very good at time management, she just…”

“She’s just looking out for you.” Harry chuckled, the sound startling Draco. “She’s always been like that. Always like that when I see her, too. I don’t mind staying,” he added, “I don’t have to come to your party, but I have nothing else to do this afternoon so staying here isn’t a big deal.” He unscrewed the lid of the strawberry jam and slathered a bit on his scone. Draco stared before turning away and wiping down another counter, his mind whirling. Who is this Harry Potter? The Potter he remembered wouldn’t be so worried about being welcome anywhere; he’d be right by the other two thirds of the Golden Trio. What had happened after the war that caused Potter to be… not Potter?

“I’d like you to come.” Draco declared, turning around and crossing his arms across his chest. He decided to try to play off of their old back and forth from school, to try to get a rise out of him. “If you’re comfortable being around a Death Eater, that is.” Harry furrowed his brow and looked down, scuffing his shoe against a non-existent mark on the floor.

“You never were a Death Eater, Malfoy.” Since when did Potter talk so quietly? It was absolutely infuriating.

Turning back to the counters, Draco quickly wiped them down and sanitized them. He really didn’t have half an hour’s worth of work to do, but he could stretch out the walk home if he tried. Humming along to the pop song playing on the radio, he made quick work of turning off the ovens and organizing his baking trays. Harry quietly finished his scone and replaced the clotted cream and jam in the refrigerator. 

“Ready to go?” Draco washed his hands one last time and faced Harry, one eyebrow raised. Harry nodded quietly, following Draco out of the kitchen and grabbing his wand from the receptacle. 

“Do you have a mirror? Or do you know how to do a Glamour?” Harry asked sheepishly, pausing before the front door. Draco turned to look at him, confused.

“Yes, but… why?” 

Harry shrugged and avoided his eyes. “If we’re going out of Diagon Alley through the Leaky, I’d prefer if I didn’t look like… Harry Potter. There’s a reason no one has seen me, and it’s not just because I don’t leave my house.” Draco started at this revelation. Harry Potter, the most loved wizard in all of history, didn’t leave his house without a disguise.

“But when you came into the cafe, you were you,” Draco protested weakly, “I knew exactly who you were.” Harry gave him a wry smile.

“That’s because you know me.” The explanation shocked Draco. “I could drop it as soon as I came through the door because that lady left and then it was just you and Luna. I don’t need to hide from you lot.”

“You can use the bathroom mirror,” Draco gestured to the rear of the store, “Or if you don’t mind it, I’m not too bad with Glamours if you tell me what I need to do.”

“Just muddle my scar and change my hair color. That should be enough.” Harry closed his eyes and stood still, looking more vulnerable than Draco had ever seen him. Where was the Potter that defeated Voldemort? This was a very odd iteration, and Draco wanted to get to the bottom of it. He pointed his wand at Harry’s face, murmuring softly, and the scar faded to a dull line on his forehead and his hair lengthened a bit and turned a light sandy blonde.

“No one will be able to tell who you are now.” Draco slid his wand into his sleeve, willing his shaking hands to be still. This was a mystery he needed to solve, but not today. Today was his birthday, and he was about to celebrate with his friends… and Potter, of all people. “Shall we?” Harry nodded and followed Draco out of the cafe, pausing as Draco performed the locking spells on the door. He shoved his hands deep into his hoodie pockets and followed a step behind as they made their way to the Leaky Cauldron. 

They weren’t spared a second glance as they stepped through the pub and out into Muggle London, and for that Draco was grateful. He just wanted to get home, to see Harry with his friends - their friends? - and then maybe, just maybe, he’d see a glimpse of the old Harry Potter he knew from school. Draco was well-aware that he, himself, was completely different from how he had been in school - he had been humbled by his probation and had done everything he could to become a better person - but he felt that his own change made sense. The quiet Harry Potter that was following him like a lost puppy, on the other hand… there had to be something to it.

“Here we are.” Draco broke the silence and motioned towards his flat as they approached. Harry eyed the building curiously.

“Muggle?” He asked, and smiled when Draco nodded. “Brilliant.” His face seemed to shimmer, and his hair turned back to the messy jet black locks; the lightning bolt scar reappearing on his forehead. Draco noticed that he took a deep, steadying breath and the smile on his face became a bit strained. “Ready for your party?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be for Luna’s extravagance.” Draco nudged open the front door and stood back to allow Harry to walk in first. “They’ll be in the kitchen. Follow me.” 

Quiet voices were shushing each other, and Draco could hear the faint jostling of bodies. He stepped into his brightly lit kitchen and was immediately greeted with a shout of “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” Luna, Ron, Hermione, and Neville stood there, beaming at him, holding a large cake in the shape of a dragon. Luna must have told them that Harry was with him, because none of them looked surprised to see him. Draco smiled and took the cake from Luna, watching as the cake-dragon puffed out a smoke plume. 

“Fancy having a drink tonight?” Ron thumped him on the back and presented him with a bottle of Ogden’s Fire Whiskey. “It is your birthday after all!” Draco took the proffered bottle and set it down next to the cake.

“Sounds like a plan. We can all let go a little.” He glanced over at Harry, who was still standing in the doorway to the kitchen, looking out of place. “Potter,” he gestured, “Come and have a drink.” Harry hesitated and took a few tentative steps into the kitchen before Hermione stalked over and engulfed him in a bone-crushing hug.

“It’s good to see you, Harry,” she began, “We were beginning to worry that you didn’t…” Harry shook his head vehemently and stepped away from her embrace.

“Not now, Hermione,” he muttered, averting his eyes from her scrutinizing gaze. “It’s Malfoy’s birthday. We can talk later.” Draco watched the exchange, more questions beginning to swirl in his head. Besides breaking up with Ginny, what had happened between the Golden Trio to cause such palpable tension?

“Birthday drinks!” Luna to the rescue, as usual. She pulled a tray of purple drinks emitting clouds of fog from the fridge and handed them out. Draco took his gratefully, sniffing at the smoking liquid. It smelled of elderberry syrup and definitely had Luna’s signature all over it. “To Draco, may he have a wonderful 24th year!” Luna raised her glass, and everyone else followed suit.

“And may you come up with even more tasty treats for us to eat!” Ron narrowly avoided Hermione’s slap. “Come on, ‘Mione, you know it’s true! You can’t forget the cake he made me for my birthday.”

“Well yes, it was tasty, but that’s not the only reason we stay around.” Hermione looked earnestly at Draco. “You know that, right?” 

“It definitely was one of the turning points of our friendship.” Draco smirked, allowing himself to banter. “You’d have never come around if it wasn’t for Luna and my scones.” He ducked as Hermione attempted to box his ears and hurried to stand next to Harry, who was still off to the side, staring into his cup. Draco didn’t know why, but he felt the overwhelming need to protect the quiet man. Nudging him with his elbow and waiting until he looked up, Draco cocked an eyebrow and held his cup up in a toast. Harry clinked his glass and took a deep pull from the fancy straw. Someone cleared their throat, and they both looked up and at Neville’s flushed face.

“So…” he fiddled with his drink, “Harry. What brings you out?” The kitchen went silent, except for Luna’s absent humming. Harry shakily set his drink down on the counter and looked miserable.

“I don’t know.” The words were mumbled, but were easy to hear in the noiseless kitchen. “I don’t know why I’m still here, honestly. I should…” He looked helplessly towards the front door. “I should just go. I don’t know why I thought this was a good idea.” Throwing back his drink and swallowing several times, he slammed the empty glass onto the counter and jumped at the crash. He began walking towards the door, but was stopped as Draco’s hand shot out and caught his elbow. 

“No,” Draco said firmly, “You shouldn’t go.” He looked at the group around them. Neville’s face was flushed and Ron looked like he was going to be sick, while Hermione’s face had twisted into something that resembled confusion. Luna was just… Luna, as usual - humming whatever song she had stuck in her head. “I’m sure you all have good intentions, don’t get me wrong.” Holding up a hand as Hermione began to protest, he continued. “You all haven’t seen Harry out of his house since… when was it? February?” He winced inwardly at the admittance of his eavesdropping, but he plowed on. “You’re literally crowding him and asking him hard questions when he’s just trying to be a part of the group. That’s… you don’t do that.” He finished lamely, looking at Harry from the corner of his eye. ‘Why am I defending Potter?’ he thought wildly to himself as silence settled on the kitchen.

“He’s right,” Luna spoke up, hopping down from the counter, “Harry’s got so many wrackspurts around his head, it’s no wonder he can’t think clearly enough to answer questions. Do you want me to take you home, Harry?” She reached out to him, but he shied away from her touch, bringing him closer to Draco than he had been before. Thoughtfully, she drew her hand back and tilted her head to one side. “No, you’re right. You should stay here and we should go. Draco, we can come back tomorrow, if it’s okay?” Nodding to herself, she herded the rest of the group towards the front door. Hermione managed to break away and stood in front of Harry, arms crossed.

“You are okay, aren’t you, Harry?” She pleaded, and Harry pressed his lips together, nodding mutely, not meeting her eyes. She pulled him into a fierce hug that ended as quickly as it started, and followed Luna and the others out of the front door. Draco strode out of the kitchen to lock the door behind them, then paused, his head resting against the doorframe, his mind spinning. He just kicked out the only friends he had for Harry Sodding Potter. He hoped that they understood; hell, even he didn’t understand his actions at the moment. Why did he feel so defensive about Harry? The last time Draco had even seen him in person was at the trials, and even then, they barely made eye contact, let alone had a conversation.

Light footsteps behind Draco alerted him to Harry’s approach. “Hey,” Harry’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I’m so sorry. I really didn’t mean to cause any sort of issue between you and them…” Draco turned to face Harry, noting his reddening face. “It’s just… it’s been a long time, and with Ginny and I breaking up, I haven’t really left my house to see them, and I try not to impose on anyone…” Draco had heard enough. He held up a hand to silence Harry, waiting until the man looked up at him.

“You’ve done nothing wrong.” He said firmly, “They shouldn’t have been pressuring you to answer questions, and they know it. My mind healer was always very outspoken about limits and pushing past where someone is comfortable. Luna has been good about not pushing me, but Ron and Hermione especially were not good at accepting my personal limits. We’ve come to a certain understanding now, but since you’re their best friend, I’m sure that they feel like they shouldn’t have to tiptoe around you. Neville, I really don’t think that he meant anything by his question; he probably didn’t even think before he spoke. I’m sure you know how he is.” That got a smile from Harry, finally. “Bottom line is, my home is a safe space and they all know that. They pushed too far, and I sent them out because of that. You are not to blame for that. My flat has very specific rules, just like my kitchen.”

“No wands in the kitchen,” Harry recited immediately, giving him a small smile. “I remember from the cafe. Something about how the magic affects the baking chemistry, or something?” Draco inclined his head. “I mean… they weren’t wrong? And maybe they deserve some sort of explanation, but…”

“Today is not the day.” Draco said firmly, leading him back into the kitchen. “It is my 24th birthday, and I can think of nothing better to do than hang out in my kitchen and drink with my arch nemesis.” He arched his eyebrow and handed Harry a new drink, inclining his own in another toast. “To new beginnings, and not killing each other.” Their glasses clinked and their eyes met. “On trinque?” Harry looked confused, and Draco chuckled. “Shall we drink?” He reiterated in English.

“Yes,” Harry took a long swig of his purple drink, “We shall.”


	5. Drinking with Harry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!! Or New Year's Eve; I'm posting this about 3 hours before 2021. I hope everyone has an amazing New Year! This chapter is a little short, but the next chapter is a bit heavy and needed some lead-up. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

And drink they did. Draco did his best to pace himself, as he wasn’t much of a drinker anyways, but Harry didn’t seem to have the same stipulation. He finished off three of Luna’s purple drinks, and proceeded to goad Draco into doing shots of Fire Whiskey. Draco was a good sport; it was his birthday after all, so he did a few shots but quickly switched to water. Harry seemed inclined to keep drinking, which was perfectly fine, but Draco wanted to keep his mind relatively clear. He still felt a bit uneasy about what conspired earlier with everyone.

They moved from the kitchen into the back garden, snacking on bits of cheese, meat, and dried fruits from a charcuterie board Draco procured from his refrigerator. Harry got louder and more animated the more he drank. Draco was fascinated at this change - the quiet, shy Harry from when he was around his friends switching seamlessly to this outspoken Harry who had pulled off his hoodie to reveal a Muggle T-shirt with some sort of music band on it - the difference was like night and day.

“I don’t really like leaving my house,” Harry admitted, shoving another bleu cheese-stuffed olive in his mouth, “People are always asking for my autograph or to take pictures with their Magic Mobiles… I feel like I should be old news by now, but I guess the whole saviour-of-the-wizarding-world thing is going to stick around for a while.” Draco silently handed him a glass of water, and he took it with a nod of thanks and gulped down half before setting it down. “I usually use a Glamour to come out, or even my Invisibility Cloak. Sometimes I’ll have Kreacher do the shopping, just to give him something to do.” He reached for the bottle of Fire Whiskey, which was nearly empty. He looked crestfallen. “I’ve drank all of your birthday whiskey.” Draco smiled and shook his head.

“I wouldn’t have been able to drink it all myself.” He tore apart a piece of prosciutto and nibbled on it. “As long as you feel okay and you’re having a good time, that’s okay with me.” Harry nodded slowly, reaching for another olive.

“This is really good,” he indicated the board, “Did you make everyone on this too?” Draco rolled his eyes and smirked.

“I’m a baker, mostly. The stuff for the charcuterie came from Tesco. I just arranged it.” Harry dropped his olive in surprise.

“You… shop at Tesco?” He inquired, and Draco nodded.

“Going out to places like Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade, for me, is kind of like being the Saviour of the Wizarding World - except completely opposite.” He rubbed absently at his left forearm, where his Mark was covered by his jumper sleeve. Harry followed the motion and his eyes grew wide.

“You still have it?” Draco nodded again, and Harry hesitated. “Can… can I see it?” Draco scrunched his nose and surveyed Harry’s face. He was flushed from the alcohol, but his eyes appeared clear and bright, curious without any inkling of disgust. Slowly, without breaking eye contact, he stretched out his arm and pulled up the sleeve of his jumper, revealing the Mark. Harry dropped his eyes to Draco’s forearm and drew in a sharp breath. Draco knew what he saw there - the skull and snake were hardly discernible and it had faded to a very light grey - a mere memory of what the Mark used to be and symbolize.

“It began fading the minute he was destroyed,” Draco said quietly, “I get phantom pain sometimes, just because of how much it used to constantly ache, but right now it’s just a dull reminder of the mistakes that I made as a blind, foolish teenager.” He jerked as Harry gently stroked down the slightly-raised skin. “I made a lot of mistakes. I followed my parents blindly, and I caused a lot of harm. But after the war, after the trials, I took myself out of their shadow. I got my own flat, I supported myself… I held several muggle jobs before Luna and I became friends.” 

“Really?” Harry looked up and met his eyes, fingers still trailing absently over the Mark. “Where did you work?”

“I was an overnight stocker at Tesco for a bit, and I worked in a few restaurants - back of house, mainly washing dishes, just to keep the flat. I ran into Luna one day when I was getting chocolates for my mother, and she gave me her floo address. I didn’t think I’d use it… but I had a bad night.” He left out the part about the nightmare and what it was about - he didn’t like thinking about it. “I flooed over to her place and she was just there, reading a book with her fern, and we sat together. She helped me find my Mind Healer, and once I had worked through some of my lingering issues, she told me that I should allow myself friends. Luna and I started really spending time together, and she brought everyone else to me after we had our cooking class.” Draco’s throat felt dry; he never really discussed his past with anyone but the Mind Healer, yet here he was, spilling everything to someone he hadn’t seen in years. Harry finally removed his hand from the Mark and leaned back, stretching his arms above his head. Tugging down his jumper sleeve, Draco stood up and grabbed the empty board and glasses, preparing to bring them into the kitchen. 

“I feel…” Harry began, and Draco looked back at him, noticing his face was slightly green. He waved his wand frantically, and transfigured the board he was holding into a bucket, placing it next to Harry. 

“Aguamenti.” Draco pointed his wand at his own empty water glass and handed it to Harry. “Drink up. You had quite a few of Luna’s drinks and they’re potent. Adding the shots on top… you may feel a little ill. It’s okay, if you need to sick up you have the bucket. I’ll be right back.” Hurrying into the washroom, Draco grabbed a flannel and ran some cool water on it, his mind racing. What did Luna do when he drank too much? It hadn’t happened in a while so he wasn’t sure if he remembered everything. Water, bucket, wet flannel… ah. She usually tucked him into bed and sang to him until he fell asleep. Well, Draco wasn’t about to sing a lullaby to Harry sodding Potter, so he’d have to make do with everything but the singing.

As he approached Harry, who had his head hanging over the edge of the bucket, he took a moment to take in the brunette. His body language spelled absolute misery, definitely a side effect of the drinking, but he also seemed so open, a far cry from the bottled-up Harry from earlier. Draco placed the flannel on the back of his neck, and Harry made a soft noise as the towel cooled his sweaty skin.

“Come on, up you get.” Draco placed a hand underneath Harry’s elbow and pulled him to his feet. Harry groaned and leaned heavily on the other man.

“I don’t think I can Apparate right now…” He stumbled, and Draco caught him, letting a small laugh escape.

“No, I don’t suppose you can.”

“Using the floo would make me dizzy.”

“Yes, I’m quite sure of that, too.”

“Where are you taking me?” Harry sounded so pitiful. Draco wound an arm around his waist and supported him towards his bedroom.

“I am going to lay you down in a bed and sit with you to make sure you’re okay until you fall asleep. Then I will be in the living room or the kitchen, planning out some pastries for brunch tomorrow, until you wake up, hopefully feeling a bit better.” A quick Tempus charm showed him the time - 7pm. Not terribly late but not too early either. Draco eased the drunk man into his bed and pulled the duvet up to his chin. Harry opened bleary green eyes and gazed up at Draco. 

“Where will you sleep?” He asked, and Draco patted his head.

“The couch is comfortable.” He shrugged. “I won’t be sleeping anytime soon though, so don’t worry.” Summoning the bucket, he placed it next to the bed before summoning the water glass. Refilling it, he placed it on the nightstand and turned to leave the room. A hand reached out and grabbed his wrist weakly, and Draco turned back to Harry, eyebrows raised.

“I’m sorry for ruining your birthday,” Harry whispered miserably, “I didn’t mean to scare everyone away or drink so much. I got carried away…”

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” Draco said firmly, “I had a good birthday, and enjoyed the time spent with the company present.” Draco hesitated, then reached out and took Harry’s glasses from his face, folding them and placing them next to the water cup. “Now you sleep, and I’ll see you when you wake up.” He walked to the door and flipped off the light. “Door closed? Cracked?”

“Cracked, please.” Draco saw Harry snuggle under the covers. “G’night, Draco.”

“Good night, Harry.” Pulling the door so that it was slightly ajar, Draco meandered back into the kitchen and began to clean up the dirty glasses. Hand washing dishes was cathartic to him, and he allowed his mind to drift as he soaped everything up.

Harry had gone into explicit detail with Draco about his life the more alcohol he consumed. He didn’t like going out in public. He wasn’t thrilled with being a war hero, and he absolutely hated being worshipped. He hated it when people referred to him as The Saviour. He wore disguises when he did leave his house, and he avoided his friends - Ron and Hermione specifically, two people that he used to be joined at the hip with - because he felt like they expected too much from him. Ginny had tried to force him into a relationship, and was too extroverted for him. The main reason for their breakup had something to do with Ginny signing him up to play a Seeker’s match against her on the Holyhead Harpies field in front of a huge crowd. She brought it up to him at a family lunch at the Weasleys’ and Harry had broken up with her there and then, and had resolutely refused to come to any further meals where she’d be attending. When Harry had told him the basics of that story, he had made a mental note to surreptitiously ask Ginny for more details the next time he saw her.

Draco rested his wet hands on the edge of the counter and hung his head, his blonde hair coming out of the elastic and tickling his cheeks. There were so many layers to Harry, and none of them included what Draco remembered from school. At Hogwarts, Harry was loud and obnoxious, social, and always up to something. Draco rolled his eyes as he remembered the dragon debacle from their first year - what happened to that Harry? Could it have been something that happened in the forest before Voldemort was defeated? 

Narcissa discussed very little with him after the fact; she had been present, yes, and it did appear that Harry had died, but she wasn’t willing to divulge any details to Draco or anyone else, for that matter. She spent her probation tending to the gardens at the Manor, and once it was up, she and Lucius moved to France. Apart from owls exchanged on birthdays and holidays, they didn’t have the close relationship they used to have before Voldemort fell.

No longer able to use the dishes as an excuse, Draco dried his hands and grabbed a notebook and biro from the counter before throwing himself down on the couch. It was Saturday night, after all - he had scones to plan for Sunday’s taste test with everyone. Did he even want everyone here? Would Harry still be here? Would Harry want everyone here? He shook his head. He still didn’t understand the innate need to protect Harry, and wasn’t even sure when it became ‘Harry’ instead of ‘Potter’ in his mind.

Flipping to a clean page in the notebook, he tapped the biro against his lips in concentration. What would be good for tomorrow? Maybe a light drink, possibly a lemonade? Luna just harvested the lavender from the garden the other day and it was ready to use; lavender lemonade sounded divine. He jotted it down and went back to daydreaming. Harry… Hogwarts… House elves… Treacle Tart! Hurriedly, before the inspiration left him, he began to write out plans to make a treacle tart for tomorrow. Anyone who knew or saw Harry in the Great Hall knew how much he enjoyed the syrupy treat, and Draco knew just how to make it indecently decadent. He prided himself on coming up with new techniques and flavors to add, and was genuinely excited to get to work on the tart tomorrow.

Before he knew it, his eyelids were growing heavy and he felt the pull of sleep. With a yawn, he set his notebook on the coffee table in front of him and stretched out on the couch, summoning a blanket from the closet. “Happy birthday to me,” he mumbled before allowing himself to drift off to sleep.


	6. The Nightmare

* * *

Someone was screaming.

Someone was screaming, and Draco felt like he was drowning, drowning…

He awoke with a start, his neck feeling stiff. He sat up and rolled his shoulders, looking around his dark flat with sleep-filled eyes. He couldn’t have been asleep for that long, but something had woken him up.

Screaming. There were shuffling noises coming from his bedroom, and all of a sudden, memories of last night came back. He had taken Harry to his bed when he had too much to drink and let him sleep there, and now it sounded like he was trying to defend himself against something.

Heart pounding, Draco leapt from the couch, wand clutched in his hand, and sprinted to the bedroom door. It was still only just ajar, and he pushed the door fully open, wand at the ready. His eyes swept the room, ready to cast a hex or a Protego, depending on what he found.

His eyes settled on the figure in the bed, and his wand dropped to his side. Harry was thrashing around, tangled in the sheets, mumbling to himself. Draco let out the breath he was holding - Harry was just having a dream. A nightmare, by the looks of it. He carefully walked to the bed and held out a hand, pausing momentarily before placing it on Harry’s shoulder. At once, Harry’s eyes flew open and he looked wildly around, unfocused. 

“Harry,” Draco murmured, “you’re having a nightmare. You’re in my flat, you just need to wake up, alright?” Harry thrashed, and Draco pulled his hand away. He knew better than to try to subdue someone who was still mostly asleep, even if he meant it as a reassuring pressure. 

“You’re...” He heard Harry gasp, “you’re…” Draco tucked his wand into the waistband of his trousers and held up his hands to show he was unarmed.

“I’m here,” Draco said cautiously, “and you’re here, in my flat. You’re in my bed, you had a bit too much to drink and I let you rest here.” He took a step towards Harry, and watched as his eyes grew more wild.

“You’re not real!” He shrieked, attempting to disentangle himself from the blankets. Draco froze.

“What?” Slowly, he approached the bed, watching as Harry’s movements grew more frenzied. “What do you mean, ‘you’re not real’?” Harry managed to throw himself off the far side of the bed and stood on shaky legs, his eyes squinted, probably looking for his glasses or his wand.

“You.” His voice sounded like a child’s now, the fight he had been giving the bed all but abandoned. He stood frozen and trembling, arms curling around himself in a protective stance. “You’re not the real Draco Malfoy.” If Draco had been expecting anything, that was not it. He knew about nightmares and had them himself; plenty of nights he woke up gasping, thinking he was still in the Manor and Voldemort was still a few rooms away. He assumed Harry would be having similar nightmares, but saying that Draco wasn’t real? What in the world…

“I can assure you that I am the real, flesh and bone Draco Malfoy.” Draco picked up Harry’s glasses from the night stand and held them out, still keeping his distance and trying to appear non-threatening. Harry snatched the glasses from his hand and shoved them on his face, eyes now focused directly on Draco.

“Draco called me ‘Potter’,” he panted, “Draco was a right arsehole in school. Draco wouldn’t be friends with Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny…”

“Well, mainly I’m friends with Luna and she forced the others to be around me enough that they started sticking around,” Draco responded conversationally, “And I can be an arse if I really want to, Potter.”

“But you’re not.” Harry was working himself into a frenzy. His face began to twitch and his knees shook, as though they were about to give you. “You’re not an arse and you’re supposed to be an arse and why aren’t you an arse? Why aren’t you Draco Malfoy?” Shutting his eyes, he rubbed his hands hard across them. “Why aren’t you…” 

“Potter… Harry, can you breathe with me? Let’s do something together now, okay?” Harry’s breaths were coming faster and faster, and Draco had to think quickly. “Harry, listen. What are five things you can see?” His eyes remained shut tight. “Harry, please,” Draco lowered his voice, “open your eyes. What are five things you can see?” Harry cracked his eyes open, finally, and Draco breathed a sigh of relief. “Come on, Harry. Five things you can see?”

“The bed.” His voice was barely more than a whisper, but Draco nodded encouragingly. “The glass of water. The window. Your weird plant.” Closing his eyes, he shook his head again. “I don’t want to.”

“One more, Harry.” Draco sat down on the bed and held out a hand. Harry ignored it and sat stiffly next to him. “Just one more thing you see.”

“You?” It was more of a question, but Draco smiled.

“That’s five. What are four things you can touch?” Harry gripped the blanket in his hand.

“Blanket. The floor.” He tapped the floor with his feet. “My glasses, they’re touching my face.” Hesitantly, he reached out and felt around blindly before gripping Draco’s hand. “You.” The colour had begun to return to his face, and Draco felt a rush of warmth. It was actually working!

“Three things you can hear?” 

“That cat yowling outside.” Harry grimaced. “The weird singing fern in your garden. Um…” he tilted his head from side to side, listening. “Breathing.”

“Two things you can smell?”

“Your flat smells like a bakery.” Harry inhaled deeply, “and… is that lavender?” 

“Luna grows it outside.” Draco confirmed. “And one thing you can taste?”

“Well that one makes no sense, I’ve been asleep haven’t I? I can’t taste anything beside my own mouth… which is disgusting, by the way.” A laugh bubbled out of Draco, relief flooding his body.

“That’s fine. Seems like you’re back with me.” Draco gave him a half smile and handed him the glass of water. Harry took a small sip and rubbed at his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Draco,” he said to his knees, “I didn’t think I’d…”

“Have a nightmare that morphed into a panic attack when you woke up in a strange place after drinking yourself into a stupor?” Draco offered, and Harry barked out a laugh.

“Okay yeah, I suppose so.” He stretched his arms above his head, and shot Draco a sidelong look. “How did you know how to bring me down?” Draco shrugged.

“I told you I had a mind healer. I was diagnosed with a bunch of things after the war; the most prevalent thing was anxiety attacks. My healer taught me the five-senses trick, and while it’s hard to do to oneself in the midst of an attack, it’s easier when you have a second person talking you through it.” He patted Harry’s knee. “I could tell you were coming back to me after you told me what you could hear, but it’s important to go all the way down to one. The taste ends up grounding you the most because you have to think a little harder.” Harry nodded slowly and got up from the bed. 

“Well, now that I have thoroughly worn out my welcome, I’m going to take my leave now.” He began to edge toward the door, stopping when he heard Draco laugh again. “What?”

“Since when do you talk like that, for one?” Draco chuckled, also standing. “And two, you’re going nowhere. Go splash some water on your face and meet me in the kitchen. It’s only,” a quick Tempus charm, “2am. Go on, now.” He made a shoo-ing motion with his hand. “To the loo with you. I’ll be out there.” And he turned and left the room, leaving Harry to follow his instructions.

After setting his wand on the coffee table in the living room, Draco flipped on the kitchen light and turned his oven on before beginning to take things out of his cupboards - golden syrup, a large tin pan, and the bread Luna had baked him a few days ago - that would suffice. He sliced the bread with a serrated knife and lined them up on the pan, tossing it into the oven without waiting for it to heat up all the way. It just needed some residual heat to get the moisture out, after all, he wasn’t going for anything more than a light toast. A pie crust he had made the previous weekend was hiding in his refrigerator and he grabbed that, as well as a lemon. 

He had removed the now toasted bread from the oven and was flattening the shortbread dough into a pie tin when Harry padded out of his bedroom, looking flushed but none the worse for wear.

“What’s that?” He asked, hopping up on a barstool and watching Draco eagerly. Draco raised an eyebrow and began to poke the bottom of the dough with a fork.

“For someone who likes it so much, I’m surprised you didn’t recognize the ingredients for treacle tart.” Draco felt a rush of pride as Harry’s eyes grew wide. “Reach behind you and grab me the beans, would you?” 

“Beans?” Harry blanched, “I didn’t think there were beans in treacle tart.” 

“They’re dry baking beans, to keep the crust from puffing up too much.” Draco laughed as he poured the dried beans in an even layer over the bottom of the dish. He slipped the dish into the oven and set a fifteen minute timer before grabbing his food processor and crumbling the toasted bread into it. “Homemade breadcrumbs are far superior,” he explained, raising his voice over the sound of pulverizing bread. “You can control how much or how little moisture is in the crumbs, so you can ensure the finished tart is as thick as you want it to be.” Abandoning the crumbs in the processor, he grabbed a sauce pan and threw it to the stove, lighting the cooktop with a long match.

“Where’s your wand?” Harry asked curiously, watching as Draco rolled the lemon on the counter before deftly slicing it in half and squeezing the juice into the pan.

“In the living room. No wands in the kitchen refers to all kitchens, all wands. Why?” Draco raised an eyebrow. “Where’s yours?”

“I left it in the bedroom,” Harry responded, giving Draco a sly smile. “I remembered, don’t worry.” With a nod, Draco unscrewed the top of the amber-colored syrup and poured a measure into the pan before turning the heat on low. “You don’t measure things out? With like, spoons or cups?”

“Don’t need to.” Draco eyed the flame before zesting one of the lemon halves into the pot and giving it a quick stir. “Things like this become second nature when you’ve made them enough.”

“How often do you make treacle tart?” The oven beeped, and Draco quickly put an oven mitt on, grabbed the crust and dumped the beans back into their tin, and replaced the crust, this time setting the timer for ten minutes.

“I think I’ve made it… maybe thrice?” Turning his attention back to the pan on the stove, he dipped his spoon in and watched the viscous liquid drip back into the pan. Seemingly satisfied, he grabbed the food processor’s cup and dumped the crumbs into the pan, stirring quickly to coat them in the sticky syrup. He reached out and flipped the stove off before grabbing an egg from the counter and cracking it into the pan. “Harry, grab me the heavy cream from the fridge, would you, love?” Harry hastened to obey, passing the carton to Draco, who drizzled the cream into the pan, watching the color and consistency change. Satisfied, he stopped the flow of cream and handed the carton back to Harry, who put it back in the fridge, still watching Draco with eager eyes.

“Three times, and you know the recipe by heart?” Harry seemed impressed. “I bet you’re amazing to watch when you’re making the scones for the cafe.” The oven went off again, and Draco slipped the crust out again and poured the treacle mixture into the pan, smoothing it down with a rubber spatula to get to all the edges. Tapping it on the counter a few times, he put it back into the over and set the timer again before turning to the dishes that had accumulated.

“I make the main scone batter, but usually delegate the mix-ins to the rest of the crew.” Draco flashed Harry a smile. “Even Neville can’t mess it up!”

“It already smells so good,” Harry moaned, his face resting on his hands, looking longingly at the oven. “You let Neville in your kitchen?”

“He’s not so bad when you tell him exactly what to do. Plus, he’s helped Luna with the gardens, so he likes to hang around and make sure the plants are well-tended to.” Twisting the timer on the stove, he turned back to Harry. “It’ll be done in about 30 minutes. Do you like it with custard, whipped cream, ice cream, or clotted cream?” He walked to the sink and turned the water on, beginning to wash the dirty dishes. Harry hopped down from his chair and grabbed a nearby towel, holding his hand out for the clean dishes. They stood together in relative silence as Draco washed and Harry dried.

“Usually custard,” Harry finally said, “but I like whipped cream too.”

“What’s your favorite?” Draco handed the last spoon to Harry and rinsed his hands before moving towards the refrigerator.

“Custard, definitely.” Harry licked his lips as though he could already taste it, and Draco was surprised to find himself watching the path of his tongue. Flushing slightly, he turned back to the refrigerator and found what he was looking for.

“Well you’re in luck!” He held up the jar triumphantly. “I just made custard the other day.” Setting the jar on the counter to loosen up, he beckoned Harry into the living room where he sat on the couch, putting his feet up on the coffee table and motioning for Harry to sit down as well.

“How are you like this?” Harry looked like a lost puppy as he sat down on the opposite corner of the couch, morosely picking at the seam of a cushion.

“How am I like… what?” The blonde thought he knew what the other man would say, but he wanted to hear it.

“So…” Harry stopped picking at the cushion and turned his head to face Draco. “…adjusted. You were just as bad off as I was during the war.” 

“Harry, you were worse than me.” Gently, Draco reached out and set a tentative hand on Harry’s knee. “Voldemort may have been in my home, but he was in your head.”

“Yeah, but…”

“But nothing.” Draco interrupted firmly. “We don’t need to compare our traumas. Everyone experiences things differently, and I was forced into dealing with mine… thanks to the Ministry, my probation, and Luna.” Harry hung his head in defeat.

“I should have dealt with mine.” He resumed picking at the pillow, a nervous habit Draco recognized. He squeezed the knee where his hand sat.

“You did what you thought was right. I’m not discrediting mind healers; in fact, I am an advocate of going to one… but you need to make that decision yourself. You can’t have your friends, family, anyone else tell you how to take care of yourself. You know yourself best, you know what you can and can’t handle.”

“Sometimes I feel like I can’t handle anything.” It sounded as though Harry was telling him a secret he didn’t even know he had. 

“It can take time, but you have people who support you, and you can do what you see fit. I could help you find a Mind Healer if you wanted, like Luna did for me. Or I can just sit here and listen to you and be your friend.” The timer sounded from the kitchen, and Draco stood up, motioning Harry to follow him.

“Draco?” He watched Draco pull on the oven mitts and remove the treacle tart from the oven, setting it down on a trivet.

“Yes?” Draco turned and raised an eyebrow as he shut the oven off and turned to look back at Harry.

“Are we friends?” Harry looked as though he would be crushed if the answer was no, and Draco swallowed.

“Do you want us to be friends?” Picking up the jar of custard, he twisted the lid off and stirred it with a long wooden spoon, if only to have something to do with his hands. Harry’s face flushed pink as he stared pointedly at the tart.

“Y-yes, I think so. Yes.” Looking up at Draco, he smiled and Draco returned the look, spreading his arms to the side.

“Well, there you have it, then. You’re more than welcome to come around the others, too. Like I’ve said many times, my home is a safe space. I can control what happens here, and I make sure that everyone is comfortable. I have no issues asking people to leave if needed.” The treacle tart had cooled enough, so Draco cut a slice and set it on a plate with a healthy dollop of custard. He cut himself a thinner slice and picked up both plates, motioning for Harry to follow him to the living room again. “Grab two forks, will you?”

Harry did as he was told and followed Draco, sitting down in front of the warm tart. Handing Draco a fork, he dug in immediately, his eyes falling closed as the warm, gooey treat hit his tongue. He chewed happily for a moment before swallowing and meeting Draco’s amused gaze. “This is the best treacle tart I’ve ever had!” He proclaimed, taking another bite before frowning. “And I’m not sure if I can be around them, not just yet. You saw how Hermione likes to pick at me, and Ron I think is still sore that Ginny and I didn’t work out.” Draco took his own bite of the tart - it wasn’t perfect, he’d have to work on the recipe, but he wasn’t about to tell Harry that - and shrugged his shoulders.

“I can understand that. You’re more than welcome to spend time with me one-on-one then. It used to be just Luna and I for the longest time. I’m okay with entertaining a single person.” The custard was good, Draco had to admit - he had perfected custard months ago, and he took a forkful of the decadent pudding and let it melt on his tongue. His mind was already racing, thinking about how to fix the treacle tart to really make it something else.

“Could we… could we plan something? Weekly?” Harry seemed reluctant and took another bite of his pastry. “Like how the others have Sunday? Maybe, if you had time, I could…” he trailed off, and Draco nodded slowly, pulling himself out of his baking mindset. Harry deserved to have his full attention.

“I don’t see why not,” he said thoughtfully, “I could do a split-Sunday, you could come in the afternoon after the others have left?” 

“Why don’t I come by the cafe on Saturdays right before your end of shift?” Harry blurted out, “and then we can walk back to your flat and do… friend things and then you could walk me home at night?” Draco considered this, and began to smile. Having something to look forward to after work on Saturdays would be good, and Harry could possibly help him in the cafe’s kitchen before they went back to his flat. 

“Friend things.” Draco repeated, amused. “Sounds good, Harry.” Finishing the last of his own tart, he stood and grabbed Harry’s plate and went to put the dishes in the sink.

“Could I have another piece, please?” The soft voice drifted into the kitchen, and Draco grinned, as he was already anticipating this answer and cutting another slice.

“Absolutely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading so far! I'm having a lot of fun, and the relationship is beginning to bloom. Yay for friend things! xD


	7. The Argument

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is very conversation-heavy with a bit of background and a bunch of arguing xD Had to know there would be some sort of showdown!

* * *

After the third slice of treacle tart, Harry had insisted on going home. “I have to get back to Kreacher,” he explained, “He gets weird when I’m away for too long.” Draco had agreed and offered to let him use the floo, but Harry was antsy. “We could apparate to the store nearby and walk the rest of the way - it would only take 15 minutes.” Draco hadn’t questioned why Harry didn’t want to apparate directly home, and took his arm for side-along after packaging up the rest of the treacle tart. 

They walked in comfortable companionship, talking about nothing of importance. When they reached the steps of Harry’s house, the old Black residence, Draco was surprised to see it.

“Isn’t your house under the Fidelius Charm?” He wondered aloud, looking up at the dark building. 

“Um… kind of.” Harry flushed. “I added you to the wards, so the house recognizes you. You may not be a Secret Keeper, but this is your ancestral home and I wanted to make sure you were keyed in. You don’t mind, do you?” Draco shook his head, and Harry let out a breath before turning to Draco and awkwardly sticking out a hand. “See you on Saturday, then? Around two?” Draco smiled and gripped his hand, giving it a firm shake before letting go and handing him the rest of the tart. 

“I look forward to it. Enjoy the rest of your tart. If you think of anything you want me to make or to have us try to make together, let me know. You can always owl me, too.” With a wave, Draco turned and walked a bit down the street, and found an alley he could use to apparate home.

Once he returned to his flat, he had fallen into bed and slept harder than he had in years, and only just dragged himself out to get showered and dressed before his friends arrived.

Now, he was being yelled at.

“What do you mean, he needs space?” Hermione’s shrill voice rose in volume, “He’s had plenty of space!”

“I am merely rehashing parts of our conversation last night that are relevant to this situation.” Draco replied calmly, removing a tray of steaming muffins from the oven. “He needs space and is struggling with certain things. I offered him a safe space, and he accepted.”

“You shouldn’t let him drink again,” Ron chimed in, grabbing a too-hot muffin and hissing in pain. “He had problems with that when he and Ginny were together.” Draco had left out their personal conversation and the nightmare, but had rehashed a few key pieces of information and the 2am treacle tart. He was now in his kitchen, surrounded by Ron, Hermione, and Luna, and of course, Harry was the first topic to come up.

“I am not a babysitter and I will not be limiting an adult’s activities as long as said party can take care of themself.” Draco raised an eyebrow as he put the next round of muffins in the oven, turning around to face a glowering Ron.

“You sound like the old Malfoy,” he grumbled, looking to Hermione, who stood stoically, watching Draco move around the kitchen.

“I assure you, the ‘old’ Malfoy and the ‘new’ Malfoy are one in the same,” Draco shrugged, wiping down the counter. “I have simply grown up and have more tact than the ‘Hogwarts-Era Malfoy’ you seem to think I default to.” He took silent pleasure in seeing Ron’s face flush.

“I didn't mean anything by it, mate,” Ron backpedaled, “I just … we’re worried about Harry, and…”

“...And find it odd that he’s clinging to you, of all people.” Hermione finished the sentence, maintaining eye contact with Draco.

“I don’t see it as clinging.” Draco pushed a lock of hair out of his eyes. “He’s been here once, and we had one conversation. If that’s not the furthest thing from clinging…”

“That may be true, but you don’t know him like we do!” Hermione threw her arms up in exasperation.

“Did.”

“Excuse me?” Ron piped up, rising to his feet. “You want to say that again?”

“What do you know about him?” Draco demanded. “Why did he and Ginny actually stop talking?” Ron faltered, and Hermione looked guilty. Luna still sat in her seat, humming while she picked apart her muffin.

“They had an argument and he stormed off.” Ron finally broke the silence. We were all there; it was at lunch at The Burrow. Things got heated, and Harry left.”

“What. Was. The argument. About?” Draco could feel himself losing his calm, and willed himself to take some deep breaths.

“Ginny said it had something to do with Quidditch and her career,” Luna chimed in helpfully. “But I never asked any further than that. I try not to get involved in lover’s spats. Wrackspurts are drawn to the emotions, you see.”

“But they weren’t even together in February!” Hermione frowned. “They just had the fight and he stopped coming around. They broke up after our 8th year.”

“Did she happen to mention that the fight from February involved Harry going to a game and flying a Seeker’s Match in front of tens of thousands of people?” By the identical looks on Ron and Hermione’s faces, they had been unaware of the details. “Have you noticed that Harry doesn’t really like being out in public or around a lot of people?”

“Well,” Ron shifted from side to side, “yes, but…”

“But nothing.” Draco held up a hand. “Harry wants to lie low and be as normal as possible.”

“We’ve concluded that, yes,” Hermione whispered, “but…”

“Concluding something isn’t enough.” Draco was on a roll now. “I’ve been there. I’ve been glared at on the streets, spit on, hexed behind my back, and while that’s not the same as getting mobbed for autographs and hounded for photos, I can imagine what Harry goes through when he just tries to buy groceries. You two are his best friends; you should know that better than anyone.”

“He doesn’t let us in anymore.” There was a plea in Hermione’s voice, willing Draco to understand. “We barely know him…”

“That’s different from what you said at the beginning of this conversation,” he responded, “and that’s the thing, isn’t it? He’s kept himself locked away to protect himself, to the point of becoming a hermit, and you all visit him and treat him like he’s some sort of… of…” Luna hopped down and encircled her arms around Draco, murmuring reassurances quietly into his ear. He hadn’t been this worked up in a long time, on the edge of a panic attack to rival Harry’s from this morning, but Luna had somehow known and her soothing presence helped him come back down. 

Hermione stepped forward and placed a tentative hand on Draco’s shoulder. “We really didn’t know,” she said softly, “He seems fine when we visit him.” 

“At his home,” Draco took a steadying breath and detangled himself from Luna, “with his rules. He doesn’t go out, does he?”

“No,” Ron admitted, “but we do invite him out.”

“To where? The pub?”

“The pub, yes.” Rolling his shoulders, Ron sank back down onto his stool. “Other people’s houses. The Burrow.”

“I invited him to the cafe when we first opened!” Luna interjected excitedly, and Draco nodded slowly.

“Yes, and he came to the cafe when he knew we would be closing and there would be little to no people inside.” He turned to face Ron and Hermione. “Is any of this making sense?”

“He hasn’t told us any of this, though.” Hermione tried, “If he’d have told us…”

“Or has he, and you haven’t been listening?” Draco sighed. “What excuses has he given you?” Ron and Hermione at least have the decency to look abashed, he noted. 

“Too many people, usually.” The admission came from Hermione, and Ron began to look queasy. 

“So, he has told you how he feels.” The oven timer startled Draco, and he hurried to take out the blueberry muffins. He stalked over to the opposite counter and grabbed the waiting tray of wildberry, setting them in the oven and twisting the timer. That would be the last round before they’d all retire to the garden - if the others were still interested in being around after Draco had his final say.

“Too many people isn’t an excuse,” Ron argued, eyeing the blueberry muffins hungrily. “Of course there will be a bunch of people at a pub! That’s where you go to socialize.”

“It’s his excuse, and that should be good enough for you.” Draco said with finality, and he saw, with a spark of gratification, that it seemed Ron was finally starting to understand. “You all have been friends for years.” He picked up a muffin and pulled a piece off, examining it before popping the bite into his mouth. “This isn’t something that’s unfixable, it’s just something that no one is used to, and you need to figure out the best way to handle it.” The noise of the front door opening and closing startled Draco, and he looked towards the entrance, noticing Ginny and Neville were standing there.

“Are we… interrupting?” Neville took a deep inhale. “Are those the lemon poppyseed?!” He practically sprinted to the counter to claim his muffin, while Ginny laughed and gave Hermione a hug before taking up her normal spot by Luna.

“Talking about Harry, are we?” She asked lightly, but Draco noticed her eyes flashed with something akin to hurt. At the scattered nods, Ginny sighed and took a deep breath. “Well, I suppose now is as good of a time as ever to tell you all the whole story, then.”

“Whole story?” Having just taken a bite of muffin, Ron spewed crumbs across the counter and shot an apologetic look at Draco. “Sorry, mate.” He swallowed. “What happened, Gin?”

“It’s kind of a long story. What you all don’t know is that Harry and I decided to try dating again, but we didn’t want it to be public knowledge, just in case.” Ginny smiled wryly. “You know how the press hounded him for years and wrote all the speculative pieces on who he was dating, why we broke up, all of that nonsense. We decided it would be best to lay low. Oh, Ron, don’t give me that look!” Ron was looking murderous. “You know how the press can be.”

“He’s my best mate!” Ron sulked, “Should have at least told me.”

“Anyways,” Ginny rolled her eyes, “We got back together just after Christmas last, and it was relatively pleasant, but it wasn’t… a story book. He really was anxious, and just wanted to stay indoors, and always refused to come to my practices, even with a disguise or the Invisibility Cloak. I was getting sick of it… and not to mention the lack of intimacy between us.” Ron choked on his muffin. “Barely anything physical. The furthest he’d go would be hugging and some snogging…”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Ron wheezed as Hermione thumped him on the back. “Can we get back to the actual story now?”

“In January, Coach was asking about different events we could do for Valentine’s day. One of the Chasers suggested doing a match against our loved ones, and everyone agreed. No one knew I was dating Harry, but I assured Coach I would be able to have a Plus One. She was the one that suggested inviting Harry, and I went along with it. You all know how he loved to fly, and it had been years since he’d been on a broom. I thought he’d have a good time.” She shook her head sadly. “Honestly, I should have known better. I kept it from him for weeks, until that dinner at The Burrow when I accidentally blurted out that we were doing a Lover’s Match on Valentine’s Day. Harry looked at me and asked, ‘So who are you playing against, then?’ I could tell he was upset, and he knew what I was going to say. When I told him that it was him, and he could play as a Seeker and get back on a broom, he started breathing heavily and clenching his fists.” Ginny demonstrated, and Draco nodded.

“Classic panic attack. What did you do?” He prompted. 

Ginny flushed scarlet. “I… I yelled at him for acting like a child, and he stormed off. Sent me an owl later that night telling me that it wasn’t working out between us and that it would be better to go our separate ways, and to not worry, he wouldn’t be around The Burrow to bother me anymore.” She absently reached out and took a blueberry muffin, tracing the top of it with her fingertip. “We had been falling apart anyways, before that. He really didn’t want to do anything that required leaving the house, and he never initiated anything intimate - oh stop it, Ron, I am an adult! If we wanted to do anything, I’d have to initiate and well… a girl has needs!” Her face, if possible, went a darker red. “But he never seemed interested. It felt more like we were together out of convenience and any time I tried to help or make him feel better, he seemed to withdraw further.”

“I never knew any of that.” Hermione said faintly.

“No one did.” Ginny took a bite of her muffin. “I kept owling him, hoping that he’d respond, and know that I was there for him even if we were broken up, but he never responded to me. That damn oven!” She jumped as the oven timer went off, and began to laugh.

“He seems to keep a lot bottled up,” Draco said thoughtfully, pulling the last tray of muffins from the oven and turning it off. “He spoke candidly to me last night, but I’m not sure if that will continue. We did set up a day where he comes over and spends time here, though.” At once, the kitchen went silent and everyone stared at Draco.

“Let me get this straight,” Ron said slowly, “He barely sees us, practically bloody ignores us, but he’ll hang out with you?”

“He wants to hang out with you all more, but he’s not ready.” Draco explained with patience that he felt slipping away. “He wants to try it with me first, and then go from there. Apparently, I’m ‘safe’.”

“That makes sense,” Hermione agreed grudgingly. “I’m not happy about it, but we can’t do anything about it. It’s Harry’s life, after all. He has to get through this his own way.”

“If I could add my own experience here,” Neville chimed in, “He was offered a teaching job at Hogwarts. Defense Against the Dark Arts, you know?” He turned it down and McGonagal was not happy. We talked about it, she and I. She’s worried about him, too, just like we all are. He hasn’t been to the memorial since 2000.” Draco didn’t want to say that he, too, avoided the memorial. He wasn’t a war hero and not everyone was okay with him, even now. He much preferred to stay away.

“Teaching probably would have been better for him than being an Auror, but right now he’s just doing nothing.” Ginny lamented, and the rest nodded their agreement.

“I’m not sure we should be discussing him so… in depth while he’s not here to defend or explain himself.” Draco said firmly, finally having had enough. “I will leave it at this: he’ll be coming over on Saturdays, and will possibly join us on Sundays in the future if he is so inclined.” He gathered a tray of muffins and motioned for everyone to follow him to the garden. 

They spoke of everything and nothing, then - Ginny’s practice, Neville’s teaching, Ron and Hermione trying for a baby… Draco had drifted off and let the lull of his friend’s voices wash over him as he daydreamed about Harry. What would they do on Saturdays? Would it be similar to Sundays with everyone? Would Harry get bored after a while and not want to come by?

“Oh, you harvested a bunch of lavender!” Luna’s excited voice broke him out of his reverie. “What are you doing with all of it?”

Draco had nearly forgotten.

“Right!” He stood, stretching, and walked over to one of the lemon trees in the backyard, feeling the fleshy citrus and plucking a few from the branches. “We’re making lavender lemonade today. I thought it would be refreshing.”

And with that, all of the talking and thoughts of Harry were dropped, and they fell into picking, rolling, and juicing lemons while discussing what new scone flavors could be created and added to the cafe’s menu for the next month. July was, after all, quite a big month - Harry’s birthday had become a holiday, and while he may not celebrate it, the entire Wizarding World did, and Draco knew he’d have to step up on the pastries that month.

Maybe he’d add treacle tart, just for Harry.


	8. Confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit longer than the others, but I ended up stuffing a bunch in! I hope you all enjoy Harry and Draco's "Friend Things" in this chapter xD

* * *

The week went by quickly for Draco. He opted not to add anything new to the menu, for the simple fact that no one could decide on any singular item. It wasn’t as though the cafe needed a new item; Draco just enjoyed creating new things. The lavender lemonade he tried with everyone on Sunday was a success, and he was planning on making small batches to tempt the customers at a later date.

By the time Saturday came, Draco hadn’t quite forgotten about his and Harry’s plans, but the cafe was so busy that day he didn’t have time to think about what they’d be doing after he got off. The customer whirled by in a myriad of colors, and soon it was approaching 2pm. There was one little old witch sitting at a table by the door, nursing her chai tea, and another customer reading the board when Draco heard the door chime as it was opened. He looked up from the counter he was wiping and smiled when he recognized Harry’s red hoodie from last week. Harry gave him a tentative smile and stopped, shifting from foot to foot as he looked around the cafe for a place to sit down. Draco gestured to the back room, and Harry gratefully walked around the counter, placing his wand in the receptacle before disappearing into the kitchen area.

“Okay, I’m ready to order.” The customer who had been considering the menu board came up to the counter and smiled warmly at Draco. He was younger, possibly a few years below Draco at Hogwarts. His hair was styled in an attractive half-mohawk and dyed a deep blue. He reminded Draco of his cousin Teddy.

“What will you be having?” Draco asked, leaning his hip against the counter.

“May I please get a large hot hazelnut macchiato?” The boy batted his eyelashes. “I used to get them at Starbucks all the time but they stopped carrying the syrup.”

“That’s disappointing,” Draco hummed, turning to dispense the syrup into the metal pitcher he used to heat up the milk. The boy kept chattering as he poured the milk and began heating it up with the milk frother.

“Yeah, I went to Starbucks, like, all the time during summer hols. Hard to study potions and charms in a Muggle place, but I made it work.” He laughed and leaned against the counter. Draco noticed him looking up and down his body… was he checking him out?

“I can imagine that would be difficult,” he replied stiffly, tamping the espresso down and putting it into the machine with a neat flick of his wrist.

The boy was silent for a split second, as though deciding what to say next. “My name’s Ethan, by the way!” He exclaimed brightly. “What’s yours?”

Draco pressed the button on the espresso machine and turned, tapping his metal name tag. “My tag says my name is Draco.”

“Oooo, like the dragon constellation!” Ethan exclaimed happily, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Draco thought he looked rather like an excitable poodle. The thought made him smirk.

“Yes, exactly like the constellation.” The espresso had finished brewing and had the perfect crema on top. Smiling to himself, he poured it into a takeaway cup and slowly drizzled the hazelnut-flavored milk on top.

“That’s so cool.” Ethan did not give up. “Do you work here often?”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “I own the place.” He didn’t feel the need to mention Luna; anyone who came in often enough knew that both Draco and Luna were the main purveyors of the cafe.

“You own it?’ Ethan looked impressed. “That is so badarse.”

Draco hummed in ascent, swirling the cup before snapping on a lid and placing a Spill Stick into the open drinking hole.

“So… how often do you work?” He appeared to be stalling, looking everywhere but where his finished coffee sat on the counter.

“That’s… basically the same question you just asked me.” Ethan flushed, looking mildly embarrassed. Draco sighed and answered anyway. “I’m here every day.”

“Oh,” Ethan looked surprised. “Cool. Do you like it?”

“Wouldn’t work here if I didn’t.” Maybe if he kept his answers short, Ethan would take the hint…

“Do you make the pastries yourself?”

Draco signed inwardly. “Yes. They’re all handmade in the back.”

“Whoa…” Ethan ran a hand through his hair, looking around the shop. Draco noticed that the witch had vacated her table, and the time had just ticked over to 2pm. 

“Here’s your coffee. It’ll be one Galleon. I need to close up now, so is there anything else I can get you?”

“Your number.” He said boldly, and Draco blanched. Was this kid…?

“Um…” Draco was speechless, but Ethan didn’t appear disconcerted.

“It’s okay,” he backpedaled, “You don’t know me… yet.” He gave Draco a wink. “I’ll see you around, Dragon!” Placing three Galleons on the counter, he snatched his coffee and flounced out the door, leaving Draco standing there, flabbergasted. He mechanically walked to the door and locked it, turning the sign to ‘Closed’, before making his way into the kitchen. Harry sat on one of the counters, fiddling absently with a cleaning rag. He startled as he saw Draco and dropped the rag.

“H-hello,” he stammered, and Draco smiled at him - a real smile, not one of his face customer service smiles. “How was work?”

“About the same as every Saturday. Typical regulars, typical people trying to get free things.” Draco raised his arms above his head and stretched before looking around the kitchen. It looked immaculate - Harry had obviously not been sitting on the counter the entire time he was there. “Did you … clean my kitchen?”

“I thought it would make things easier on you,” Harry blushed, and hopped off the counter. “I figured if I did the initial cleaning, I could help you make the scones for Monday and then the cleanup afterwards wouldn’t take very long at all.” 

“I appreciate it, Harry.” Draco said sincerely, flipping the power switch on the mixer. “It definitely will cut down on the time we need to spend here.”

Harry hesitated, and watched as Draco began to write something on a pad of paper. “What did that last customer want from you?”

“Oh,” Draco snorted, “Would you believe he asked for my number? Pretty sure he was trying to flirt with me.” He laughed, tucking his Biro behind his ear. “Not going to happen.” 

“What kind of scones are you making this time?” Harry changed the subject abruptly, and though Draco noticed, he paid it no heed. He already poured the ingredients for the scone batter into his large mixer and turned it on low, so he consulted the list he had started writing.

“Blueberry for sure; those are always popular. Ham and cheese seemed to be a big seller this week, so definitely some of those. Pumpkin hasn’t been popular so I’m eliminating them. Plain is a necessity, the eldery love them…” Draco trailed off, thinking.

“What about… a mixed berry? Or possibly strawberry?” Harry suggested, bending down and looking into the small cooler. “I see you have blackberries, strawberries, blueberries… what about these?” He held up a container full to the brim of chocolate chips. “I don’t think I’ve seen you make a chocolate chip scone before.”

“You’re right,” Draco was surprised at himself. He hadn’t made a chocolate chip scone, and that was something that could end up being a good seller. “Okay then, we will do mixed berry and chocolate chip for the other two.” Flipping the mixer off, he hefted the heavy bowl up onto the counter and dumped out the scone dough. Giving it a cursory roll, he divided it into five equal sections and separated them, ensuring that there was enough space to do mix-ins without the doughs touching.

“What do we need, and what goes where?” Harry asked, placing the chocolate chip container next to one of the dough lumps. 

“Plain here,” Draco indicated the first section. “Those are always the first ones I roll and cut. Then ham and cheese - you’ll find that in the cooler as well, already diced up. The entire container of ham and cheese will go into it. Blueberry next, four large scoops. For mixed berry, do one scoop of blueberry, two scoops of blackberry, and one scoop strawberries. As for the chocolate chips… add in as much as you like.” Draco retreated to the blast freezer to collect the frozen trays, and when he returned less than a minute later, Harry had already portioned out the ingredients for scones and placed them in a well he created in the center of each portion of dough. He noticed Draco staring at him, and smiled tentatively.

“Kreacher likes to bake and showed me the proper way of getting things done. He says that prep is very important; the faster you prep, the faster you can get the treats done.” Harry began folding the ham and cheese into the dough, and Draco shook himself out of his stupor and began to roll out and cut the plain scones.

“That’s amazing, Harry.” Draco said honestly, watching Harry work out of the corner of his eye. His tongue was poking out a little with the effort of kneading, but he seemed to be content. “Would you believe that it usually takes Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Luna thirty minutes to get done what you’ve already accomplished?” He saw Harry flush, and noted the pleased expression on his face.

“They’re probably all distracted by each other. I’m sure they do a good job, though.” Harry had finished mixing the ham and cheese and moved onto the blueberry, kneading and folding the berries into the dough without dropping a single one. “What’s the plan for tonight?”

“Not sure,” Draco shrugged, moving on to cut the next set of scones. “Do you want anything in particular for dinner?”

“I’ve been craving Indian takeaway,” Harry admitted, “It’s been a long time. Ron and Hermione usually bring Chinese when they come over.”

“The Tandoor restaurant is only a street away,” Draco mused, “It serves my favorite Indian food. We could go there after we’re done and get it to go.”

“What do you usually get?” Blueberry scones completed, Harry moved onto the mixed berry and made quick work of the dough.

“Butter chicken. I, uh… can’t handle too much heat.” At Draco’s admission, Harry began to laugh. It was a full-bellied laugh, completely different from the Harry that Draco had seen the last time they were together. He seemed genuinely happy.

“Butter chicken is tasty,” he said finally, wiping his eyes. “I prefer Lamb Bhuna and I ask them to make it extra spicy.” He grinned at Draco. “So I guess I don’t have to worry about you stealing any of my food then?”

“Absolutely no fear of that.” Draco confirmed. “Unless you want to see just how much mango lassi I can consume.”

“Mango lassi!” Harry had moved to the chocolate chip scones, the last ones that needed to be mixed. “I always forget to order some but it’s so good.”

“I always get extra because it’s my favorite, so I won’t forget.” Draco took the tray of cut mixed berry scones into the blast freezer before nudging Harry out of the way to finish cutting the last batch. “Just remind me to get extra naan. Luna says the garden gnomes are more likely to help us fertilize the garden if we give them treats like that.”

Harry shuddered. “Do I want to know what kind of fertilizer we’re talking about?” He moved to the sink, wetting a rag and grabbing the cleaner to wipe down the counter as Draco finished placing the cut scones on the last tray. 

“Probably not.” Draco closed the door to the freezer and flipped the power switch on his mixer before going to the sink to wash his hands. “I really appreciate all of your help, Harry. I would have been here at least an hour longer if I didn’t have you.” 

“It was better than sitting home alone, wallowing in self-pity.” Harry gave a self-deprecating smile. “Just because I’m a recluse doesn’t mean I don’t recognize it and want to fix it.”

“I never said…” Draco began, but Harry cut him off with a laugh.

“Look, I know what’s wrong with me and I accept it. I’m trying to get better… actively, now. I feel like I actually have something to work towards. I can thank you for that,” he added, almost as an afterthought. “You really gave me some stuff to think about last week, and it helped.” 

“I’m glad.” Draco really was glad. He never thought that his words would have meant so much to Harry. “Are you ready to get going? I’m starving.” Harry nodded and placed his soiled rag into the laundry basket and followed Draco out of the kitchen, grabbing both of their wands and handing Draco’s to him. Draco, understanding the unspoken request, pointed his wand at Harry and performed the same Glamour he had the previous week. Satisfied, he nodded and motioned Harry towards the front door.

After turning off the lights and setting the locking wards, Harry and Draco walked down the street in companionable silence. They reached Tandoor in record time, and Draco ordered their food - one order of Butter Chicken, one order of extra spicy Lamb Bhuna, two large mango lassis, and four servings of garlic naan. Harry, though Glamoured, still hung back, hands shoved deep into his pockets, glancing around with a wary look in his eye.

“If you want to wait outside, you can,” Draco murmured to him as he leaned casually against the wall. “They said it would be about fifteen minutes.”

“I can handle fifteen minutes,” Harry retorted stubbornly, “I’m not an invalid.”

“Didn’t say you were, Potter.” Draco rolled his eyes, but it had the planned effect - Harry cracked a smile and looked a fraction more relaxed. 

“So what are we doing back at your flat?” He asked, “Besides eating, that is.”

“Well, you saw I have a telly,” Draco said proudly, “And Luna just loaned me her DVD player and some movies. Maybe we could watch a film?” Harry’s eyes lit up.

“That would be fun!” His feet tapped a little on the ground and Draco could have sworn he heard him whisper, “Friend things!” to himself.

Their order was called and Draco approached the counter to grab their food. “I added an order of Gulab Jamun, on the house!” The hostess said with a smile. “Enjoy your food, lads!”

The walk to Draco’s flat took no time at all, more than likely due to them walking quickly, the aroma of the freshly made Indian food wafting between them. Harry dropped his Glamour and went into the toilet as Draco took the food into the living area. He was determined to keep Harry comfortable, so he forewent the normal plates and silverware and instead contented himself with using the takeaway containers and plastic forks. He was poking a straw into his mango lassi when Harry came out, his hoodie draped over his arm. Draco motioned to the television stand, where a few DVD cases were scattered.

“Go ahead and pick one.” He knew that the selection was varied; Luna enjoyed every type of movie under the sun. He was sure that there was at least one thriller in the mix. Curious as to what Harry would choose, Draco sat down at one end of the could and began mixing up his Butter Chicken.

“This one, definitely.” Harry raised the DVD for Draco to see.

“Freaky Friday, nice. You know how to put it in?” He raised an eyebrow as Harry shot him a scathing look.

“Of course I know how. Not like I wasn’t raised by muggles most of my life.” Harry grumbled, jabbing the eject button on the DVD player.

“They had a DVD player back then?” Draco speared a piece of chicken and studied it. “I was under the impression that they used… VCRs back then? Isn’t that correct?”

“Hush up, you.” Placing the disc into the loading tray, Harry pushed it in and got up, throwing himself on the couch opposite Draco. “Not that I’m not impressed that you even know what a VCR is…” Tossing him the remote, Draco didn’t miss the small smile gracing Harry’s face as he aimed and clicked “play”.

They ate their food, and Harry managed to snag a few pieces of Draco’s Butter Chicken, much to Draco’s chagrin. He attempted to return the favor, but he found that Harry’s Lamb Bhuna was indeed too spicy for him. Gulping down his mango lassi, Draco glared at Harry, who laughed and grabbed the last piece of naan, tearing it in half and handing it to Draco as a peace offering.

As their stomachs grew full, the takeaway containers sat forgotten on the coffee table as the two men watched the movie. Draco had seen Freaky Friday before, but found himself deeply involved in the storyline. He had always wondered what it would have been like if Lucius had really understood the plight he had to go through, as Lucius Malfoy’s son in Lucius Malfoy’s shadow. Maybe things would have been different, if they were able to switch bodies...

Draco noticed Harry frowning at his Gulab Jamun. He had picked up the Indian doughnut a few minutes ago, and still hadn’t taken a bite. “What are you thinking about, Harry?”

Harry’s frown deepened. “Nothing much.”

“You’ve been staring at the doughnut for a while. I can practically hear your mind racing. What are you thinking about?” Draco repeated, turning his body slightly to face him.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Harry blurted out, then looked abashed. Draco froze. Only his Mind Healer and Luna knew the full depth of his sexual proclivities, but he and Harry were getting closer, so maybe…

“No, no girlfriend.” He chickened out at the last second. Really, it wasn’t any of Harry’s business, and he had answered the question.

“Oh.” Harry continued studying the doughnut. “Any girl you’re interested in, then? Luna? Ginny?”

“That would be impossible.” Draco laughed, feeling slightly manic. ‘ _ Well, here goes nothing,’ _ he thought to himself. Aloud, he stated, “I don’t like girls.”

“Oh.”

“I’m gay.”

“Yes, I got that from when you said you didn’t like girls.”

Draco hesitated. “Does that bother you?”

“NO! Absolutely not!” Harry finally shoved his Gulab Jamun into his mouth and turned back to the movie. Draco felt lightheaded - this was not how things were supposed to go. He was supposed to come out on his own terms, to the people who mattered, and not feel like he was forced out… he felt himself spiraling and began to quietly do the breathing exercises his Mind Healer had taught him. 

Harry did matter, he told himself. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville… they were all his friends. They would understand.

_ The movie, Harry’s hoodie draped over the couch, the garish wallpaper he never bothered to replace, the containers of takeout, Harry’s messy hair. _

Luna took it in stride. She had given him a hug and told him that she knew already, and wasn’t liking boys lovely?

_ The arm of the couch beneath his hand, the plastic fork he still held, the plush carpet beneath his feet, the warmth of Harry next to him. _

Harry would have made an excuse and left if it had really bothered him, wouldn’t he? He wouldn’t still be sharing space with Draco, eating and watching a film. He wouldn’t tell the others before Draco was ready, would he?

_ Harry’s breathing, Jamie Lee Curtis arguing with Lindsay Lohan, the singing fern in the corner of the room. _

And why did he need Harry’s acceptance anyways? He was his own person. He had liked boys his whole life. Even that small fling with Pansy had been nauseating.

_ Butter chicken and Harry’s cologne… or was it a potion he used? The soap he preferred? _

No matter what, he’d still have Luna. Luna would never abandon him. She would always be by his side.

_ The syrup of his Gulab Jamun. _

He popped his doughnut into his mouth and savored the extremely sweet pastry. The movie was almost over, and he felt calmer after he completed the Five Senses exercise. Everything was going to be fine. He was licking the stickiness from his thumb when Harry spoke up.

“Me too.”

“Pardon?” Harry was speaking so quietly that Draco could barely hear him.

“You know how you said that you like boys?” Harry fidgeted with the edge of a couch cushion.

“You mean, less than ten minutes ago, when you asked if I was interested in any girls?” Draco asked blandly. “Yes, I’m quite sure I remember that.” He mentally chastised himself for sounding so aloof, but he couldn't help it. It was a defense mechanism.

“Well… I do too.” Harry let out a breath. “I mean, I like girls, too. I did date Ginny, after all. Twice, even. But I like boys more. Always have, I think. I mean,” he shot Draco an apologetic grin, “Being involved with the war didn’t leave me much time for experimenting, but I knew what drew my eye back then, and it wasn’t always Ginny.” He kicked his legs out before him, stretching languidly. “I had the biggest crush on Cedric in fourth year.”

“Who didn’t have a crush on Diggory?” Draco laughed in surprise, “Fuck, he even caught my eye back then.” They were giggling helplessly at that point, any tension broken by their shared crush. ‘ _ See,’ _ Draco told himself, ‘ _ This isn’t so bad. Maybe I’ll be able to come out to everyone else without much fuss.’ _

They finished the movie and as much of their food as they could, but Harry had a bag of leftovers to bring home with him. He declined staying the night, stating that he felt Draco didn’t get a good night’s sleep the last time he stayed over. Draco argued but in the end, Harry won out. They followed the same pattern as the previous Saturday, and Apparated to the corner store before walking the rest of the way to Grimmauld Place. 

“Same time next Saturday?” Harry asked brightly as they approached his front stairs. He was acting more alive, Draco noticed, and smiled. He enjoyed his time with Harry, and was looking forward to the next weekend.

“Absolutely. Enjoy the rest of your ridiculously spicy lamb!” Draco joked, nudging his shoulder. Harry flushed and ran up the stairs, waving to Draco as he closed the door behind him.

Laughing to himself, Draco made his way down the road to the same side alley he had used to apparate last week, and arrived at home a little before midnight. As he walked in the front door, his eyes were drawn to the living room, where he and Harry shared food, a movie, and secrets together. A soft smile lit his face as he noticed that Harry left his pullover draped over the couch.

The living room still held the faint aroma of Harry’s cologne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Five Senses exercise Draco does is the same as the one he helps Harry through in Chapter 6 - 5 things you can see, 4 things you can touch, 3 things you can hear, 2 things you can smell, and 1 thing you can taste


End file.
